


Back to the Sea

by SleepyEye



Series: Alice's Adventures [2]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Another long one, Attempted Murder, Autism, Bullying, Established Relationship, Family Reunion, Lots of OCs - Freeform, Many many many chapters, Mystery, Panic Attacks, St Mawes, Stabbing, broken arm, character on the spectrum, i just can't stop, reference to past abuse, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-11-28 12:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 49,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyEye/pseuds/SleepyEye
Summary: This is the sequel to the White Rabbit, though it can be read as a standalone. It's set about four years after Lethal White, and a year and a half after The White Rabbit. Cormoran and Robin have moved in together and are wonderfully happy.





	1. 18 Months

18 months. It had been the happiest 18 months of Cormoran’s life. This happiness filled Cormoran with such an irrational anxiety, he couldn't sleep at night. The bluebird of happiness had finally landed on his shoulder, and he was paralyzed, terrified that the slightest movement might frighten it away.

He remembered his mother tucking him in one night when he was eight, the smell of alcohol on her breath. 

“Cormoran, baby,” she’d slurred, “The higher you fly, the harder you fall.”

And Cormoran was high. Was he ever. Robin had been promoted to co-partner, Hutchins and Barclay were both full-time, and they had amassed several part-time employees. The firm took up the entire third floor of a building, with private offices for both Cormoran and Robin, offices with locks and heavy wooden desks that were perfect for after-hours recreation. And that recreation was frequent and thoroughly enjoyable.

He loved Robin, mind, body, and soul. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She was everything he had ever wanted, even if she did leave her wet towel on the bedroom floor. What they had was uncomplicated, pure joy. 

He had always been cautious with relationships, but he had leapt into this one full force. After nine months of dating, they had moved in together. Nothing had ever made so much sense. Nothing had ever felt so perfect. He was taking Robin home to St. Mawes in two weeks, to show her around his childhood home. Cormoran was a happy man. 

And yet, he would wake up at night, holding Robin’s naked body in his arms, and wait in breathless terror for the other shoe to drop.

And then it dropped.

They were walking to the Tottenham when Cormoran felt it, the prickling on his ears that always happened when he was being followed. He felt Robin stiffen beside him and smiled. She had the instinct. He glanced over his shoulder. The man tailing them ducked down in an imitation of tying a shoe, but he was too slow and Cormoran caught the familiar greasy man-bun of Mitch Patterson.

“It’s Patterson,” he murmured. 

“Shit. I thought I’d seen him the other day, but I wasn’t sure,” Robin said.

“What do you want to do?

“What can we do? We can hardly beat him up. Appealing as it sounds.”

“I wish I knew who hired him, and what he wanted.”

Robin sighed.

“I think I know.”

They ducked into the Tottenham and managed to snag a booth.

“Alright then,” Cormoran said, once they were situated, “Don’t leave me hanging. Why is Patterson following us?”

Robin fidgeted with her napkin.

“Well. It just so happens that.” She cleared her throat. “I heard from my lawyer yesterday.”

“Ilsa?”

“No, my first lawyer. From university. Apparently Patterson has been asking about my identity.”

Cormoran let this sink in.

“Well fuck.”

“Yeah. My identity was kept completely confidential during the case. My name was never mentioned outside the courtroom. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to find out.”

“Do you think the man is trying to hunt you down?”

“No, no. He’s still in prison. My guess is that somebody wants to turn it into a news story. It was a bit of a high-profile case. Changed the protocol at universities and such. And now with the stuff going down in the US, with that swimmer guy...”

Cormoran took her hand.

“How are you?”

“I’m okay. I’m fine.” She smiled at his raised eyebrow. “I  _ promise _ . My only concern is what he’s planning on doing with the information once he gets it.”

Cormoran clenched his fist on the table.

“I’ll take care of it,” he growled, “Don’t you worry. Patterson will get his.”

Robin snorted.

“What are you gonna do, throw him off the pier, mafia style?”

Cormoran chuckled.

“I was thinking more along the lines of kneecapping, but hey, murder works too.”

“We can’t go looking for trouble, now.”

“Pretty sure trouble has been following us all week. That’s hardly considered looking for it.”


	2. The nun in the bath

Cormoran had to do a double take when he left the flat for coffee the next morning.  _ Surely not. Surely even he wouldn’t be that stupid _ . But there he was, Mitch Patterson in all his sleazy glory. He wasn’t even trying to hide, just leaning against a lamppost, waiting, an obscenely large camera hanging around his thin neck. Upon seeing Cormoran he straightened up. 

“Ah, Strike,” he said, “Just the man I wanted to-” 

Before he could finish his sentence, Cormoran grabbed Patterson’s arm with a vice grip and steered him down the street.

“You must have some stones, coming here,” Cormoran hissed between gritted teeth.

“Don’t man-handle me,” Patterson warbled, “I just want to talk to you!” 

Cormoran pushed him into a nearby alley and loomed over him, so close that Patterson’s camera lens pressed against his stomach. Up close, he noticed that Patterson looked like shit. He had bags under his eyes, and he smelled like he hadn’t showered in a while. 

“What the fuck are you doing, following us?” Cormoran said.

“I just want to talk,” Patterson repeated, “Will you let go of me?”

Cormoran let go and balled his fists at his sides, trying to keep his rage at bay. He thought about Robin and tried for some deep breaths. The last thing she needed was to have him dragged away for assault.

“What do you want,” he growled.

“I’ve been at this business for a lot longer than you have,” Patterson said, “You started, what, eight years ago? I’ve been around for double that. I started when I was twenty-three.”

“So?”

“So I was doing just fine until your Landry case started fucking me up. Suddenly your name was in all the papers. Everybody who needed a PI went to you. I lost all my clients. You were top of the charts, nobody even looked at my name anymore.”

Realization dawned, and Cormoran shook his head.  _ Surely even he wouldn’t sink this low. _

“You want my business,” Cormoran said.

“You wouldn’t have to give up entirely. Just split up the clients. Send a few my way. Fifty-fifty, say.” 

Cormoran blinked down at Patterson, astounded by his audacity. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“And in return?”

“In return, your little lady will go on like always, nobody knowing that she’s responsible for getting the Gorilla Strangler put away.”

Cormoran could feel the blood pulsing behind his eyes. 

“Think about your little lady,” Patterson went on, “You've seen how the whole of America went off its shit for this new Brock Turner case. Do you really want Robin to be in the middle of a scandal like that? Do you really want-”

Cormoran’s rage was a solid thing, ringing in his ears, compressing between his eyes. He didn’t even think, he just let go, his arm arching back and slamming forward. Patterson was fast, though, and slithered out around Cormoran. Cormoran’s fist cracked into the brick wall and he roared in pain, doubling over. Patterson took the opportunity to swing the over-large camera across and into Cormoran’s face. Cormoran felt his nose break, and the stinging numbness in his teeth that meant something had gotten dislodged.

“ASSAULT!” Patterson screamed, “I’VE BEEN ASSAULTED!” Cormoran curled up on the ground and cradled his arm to his chest.

**************  
  


“Distract me, Robin,” Cormoran said, leaning back in the hospital bed, “Tell me a joke.” 

“Alright.” Robin thought for a moment, then said, “So there was this nun, right? And she decided to take a bath.”

They had been at the hospital for five hours now. They had waited in A&E for three hours before the doctor saw to Cormoran, then two more hours while the nurses X-rayed and tested and scanned. Cormoran and Robin were both starving, having eaten nothing but crisps and chocolate from the vending machine all day.

Cormoran had dutifully accepted her lecture in the car ride over.  _ Why did you follow him, why didn’t you call me first, I’m not a damsel, I don’t need your violence to avenge my honor. _ She had gripped his good left hand as she spoke, and he had heard the love behind the words. His mouth was gummy and swollen, and his words seemed slow and stupid, but he had managed  _ I’m sorry  _ and  _ I love you _ , and she had seemed satisfied by that. All was forgiven. 

The doctor strode back into the room before Robin could finish her joke. 

“Alright Mister Strike,” the doctor said, “We’ve examined your X-rays and have determined that you have shattered two fingers and broken your wrist, and you will need surgery.” Cormoran sank back into the bed. “We’ll insert a metal plate to prevent the bone from shifting. Once that’s done there will be no need for a cast, although we will keep your fingers splinted, and you will need a sling.” 

“When will the surgery be?” Cormoran asked.

“We’ll have to wait until all the swelling goes down, unfortunately, which means no sooner than Tuesday. There is an opening on Tuesday, if that fits in your time frame.”

“That fits. Yes.”

The doctor nodded and made a notation on his clipboard.

“Alright then, you are free to go. I’ll be back in a moment with your discharge papers.”

The doctor nodded left the room. Robin climbed up onto the bed and ran a hand through Cormoran’s hair. 

“How’s your nose?” she asked.

“Can’t feel a thing. How do I look?”

She examined his profile and grinned.

“Rugged.”

“You mean lumpy?”

“Something like that.”

“Mm.” He laid back and shut his eyes. “You never finished your joke.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Robin snuggled into him, resting her cheek on his chest. “So there was this nun, right? And she wanted to take a bath. So she filled up the tub and took off her habit, and climbed in. It was a lovely bath, all steamy, and she was just getting relaxed when there was a pounding at the door.” Robin rapped on the side of the bed to demonstrate. “The nun said, ‘who is it?’ and the answer came back, ‘I am the blind man!’” 

Cormoran smiled, his eyes still shut. He could see where this was going. 

“The nun didn’t know what to do.”

“Sounds like… a co- _ nun _ -drum.” Cormoran said. Robin gasped, delighted.

“My God, you’re a genius. Yes, the nun had a conundrum. See, the church was always open to the poor and needy, and they never turned anyone away. But here she was, arse naked. Then she thought to herself, ‘Well, he’s blind, so what’s the harm? He doesn’t have to know I’m naked,’ so she called for him to come in. The door opens and a man comes in. He looks her up and down and says ‘Nice tits! Where should I hang the blinds?’”

Robin could feel the laughter shaking Cormoran’s chest.

“That’s a good one,” he said.

“I learned that from an old nun back in Masham.”

“A nun taught you that?”

“Yeah. She used to tell it in the first person.” 

Cormoran sighed and pulled Robin closer.

“I love you so much.” 

“I love you too.”


	3. The bathroom floor

Cormoran and Robin spent the next four days in the flat. Both Wardle and Ilsa agreed that Patterson was unlikely to file assault charges. After all, Cormoran was the one who walked away injured. Wardle was investigating Patterson for leaking confidential information to the press and putting Robin in jeopardy, but he had not yet found any proof aside from what Patterson had told Cormoran. Robin wanted nothing to do with any of it. So they stayed indoors, ordering takeaway and reading. Cormoran took painkillers and slept a lot. He would have considered it a perfect weekend if he wasn’t in excruciating pain, and unable to do the most basic of tasks. He needed Robin to help him put on his prosthesis, tie his shoes, buckle his belt. He felt useless and weak, which led to him snapping about the smallest of issues. Robin, in turn, was buzzing around like Mary Poppins on amphetamines, cooking, cleaning, all smiles and giggles, trying to hide the tremble in her hands.

On Monday night Cormoran woke up to the unmistakable gasping, wheezing sound of a panic attack coming from the bathroom. 

_ Shit. _

He jumped out of bed and reached for his crutch before remembering that he couldn’t use a crutch with his arm in a sling. He wobbled precariously for a moment, then landed back on the bed with a curse.

“Robin,” he called, “Robin, hang on, I’m almost- fuck.” He finally managed to lower himself onto the floor and gracelessly scoot his way over to the bathroom. The door was ajar, and he pushed it open. Robin was leaning against the bathtub, her face pressed into a pillow to muffle the sounds of her meltdown. 

“Robin.”

She looked up at the sound of his voice, her face streaked and white. Her breath was wheezing in and out with a sad bicycle-pump sound, and her eyes were wide and bloodshot. Cormoran crawled over to her and pulled her close, rubbing her back and kissing her forehead.

“You’re safe here,” he said, “You’re safe with me. Nothing can hurt you here. Let’s count your breathing, okay? Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.” 

Gradually Robin’s breathing quieted and grew still, and she found herself too exhausted to move. She laid her head in his lap. They sat like that for a while, Cormoran running his fingers through her hair. 

“You don’t have to hide your panic attacks from me, you know,” he said.

“I know. I just… I didn’t want to add another thing to your plate.”

“I love you. I always want you on my plate.”

“Cause I’m a snack?”

Cormoran regretted letting Jack teach Robin slang. He grinned rolled his eyes.

“Yes. Cause you’re a snack.”

“Mm.”

“Listen, Robin, I don’t…” He considered his words carefully. “You don’t have to be a mother to me, okay?”

“I should hope not. Sounds Oedipal.”

“I mean, I don’t want you to feel like you have to make everything better. This is going to be shit, and I’m probably going to be miserable and grumpy. You don’t have to cheer me up, okay? You don’t have to act all happy and fun. All that will do is make me feel pressured to also act happy and fun, and that will just make everything worse.”

“You want me to act depressed and gloomy?” 

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes. I do. And I love you for it.” She sat up and laid her head on his shoulder. “The truth is, it’s hard for me. Matthew wanted so badly for me to be a little Suzy Homemaker, always cheerful, always smiling. Like somebody from a 1950s appliance commercial. And as a child, I think it was kind of the same. When my brothers would fight, I was mummy’s happy little girl, the peacemaker. Now, I see you hurting, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to fix things.”

“You don’t have to fix things. In fact, you can’t fix things. Not everything. Not this.”

Robin leaned back and looked at him.

“You mean I’m not in complete control of everything in the universe?” she said.

“I wish you were. The universe might be a much nicer place.”

“I don’t think I could handle the workload of being a deity.” 

Cormoran grew serious.

“Listen, Robin, I know we were planning on going to St. Mawes next week, but if it’s too much right now...”

“Oh no! I want to go!” Robin looked horrified, then quickly checked herself. “I mean if you feel up for it. I mean, you can’t work, and honestly I can hardly bear the thought of going out and facing Patterson’s bullshit right now. I think a vacation might be just what we need. So that your broken arm isn’t something to dread, but something fun. So that you aren’t lying around alone all day feeling sorry for yourself, but that we were together.”

“What if I want to lie around alone all day and feel sorry for myself?”

“If you want to stay here, we can. But wouldn’t it be nicer to lie around and feel sorry for yourself at the beach?”

Cormoran nodded.

“Alright. I’d like to go too. Aunt Joan will be thrilled. She can’t wait to tell all her friends about my broken arm. Ailments are like trading cards among her and her friends.”

“God, what is it with elderly relatives. My uncles are the same way. Colonoscopies are practically a rite of passage.” She laid her head back down on Cormoran’s lap, staring up at the ceiling.

“Tell me more about St. Mawes,” she said.

“Well, like I said, it’s my uncle’s birthday. Going to visit on his birthday was probably the only constant thing in my life. It always fell around the Parish Picnic, so we turned it into a big party for him.”

“What’s the parish picnic?”

“It’s this massive event, where the local scouts barbecue hundreds of burgers and holds games. There’s usually live music. That sort of thing.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Well, I haven’t been in ages, not since Charlotte. But he’s turning seventy this year, so Nick and Ilsa and David Pollworth are all going up. As you know, Lucy and the boys have been staying at their summer home there since June.”

“No Greg?”

“He goes up when he can. He’ll be there when we are, unfortunately. I think they work better long distance, to be honest.”

“I’m really excited. I’ve always wanted to see the place where you grew up.” 

“I know visiting family isn’t usually an ideal vacation…”

“I love your family.”

"Alright. St. Mawes it is."


	4. Surgery

Robin went into the hospital with Cormoran the next day. She could read the tension in his shoulders, the clench of his jaw, and she knew that he was barely holding it together. The man did not like hospitals. His fear made Robin feel desperate and powerless. She knew that he didn’t want false attempts at cheeriness, but she didn’t know what else to do. She wanted to fix things, but all she could do was grip his hand as the nurses asked him questions.  _ When did you last eat? Are you allergic to anything? _

“How long can I stay with him?” Robin asked.

“Right up until pre-op,” the nurse said, “Then only immediate family is allowed.”

“Even if she’s my emergency contact?” Cormoran asked.

“Is she your spouse?”

“No.”

“I’m afraid only spouses and family members are allowed in.” 

Cormoran was about to argue, but Robin squeezed his good hand.

“It’s okay, Cormoran. I’ll stay with you as long as I can.” Cormoran sighed and shut his eyes. “Tell me about your aunt and uncle,” Robin said, “I want to make sure that I don’t embarrass myself.”

Cormoran smiled at Robin’s sincerity. The only other woman he’d introduced to his aunt and uncle was Charlotte, and Charlotte hadn’t given a shit. Charlotte had wanted to break as many rules as she possibly could. 

“You won’t embarrass yourself. They’ll love you.”

“Tell me about them anyways.”

“Well, my aunt is sixty-nine. She used to be a baker at the St. Mawes Bakery, but she’s since retired, and now only works part-time at the till. The bakery is almost one hundred years old, family owned, and something of a historical landmark. When she’s not at the bakery she’s volunteering at the church. She does everything but preach on Sundays.”

“Ooh, that’s intimidating.”

“It’s not, really. She doesn’t expect us to attend church. Just don’t openly mock religion and you’ll be fine.” He remembered Charlotte’s dramatic sighs and eye-rolls whenever Joan would say grace before dinner. He doubted that Robin would have the same response.

“I promise I’ll leave my satanic relics at home.”

“Pity.”

“And your uncle? What’s he like?”

“He’s quiet, but he’s really funny once you get him to open up. He likes Ole and Lena jokes.”

Robin grinned.

“I love Ole and Lena jokes.”

“I know. You two will get along well. He’s a great storyteller. He was SIB, like me. Now he spends most of his time fishing, but it’s for fun more than for profit.”

“How did he and your aunt meet?”

“The old fashioned way. They grew up together.” Cormoran smiled. It was an old story, one he’d spent his whole life hearing, and telling it over was incredibly comforting. He sat up a bit. “He was madly in love with her, but too shy to tell her face-to-face. Then he shipped off to Korea and asked if he could write to her while he was away. Now, my uncle is an incredible letter writer. He’s a lot better at writing than talking, so she fell in love with him pretty fast. He always visited when he was on leave, they wrote letters constantly, and talked on the phone when they could. Two year passed. He knew she was the one for him, but he was too nervous to ask her over the phone. So he wrote down a proposal and put an engagement ring in an envelope and mailed it to her. But it got lost in transit.”

“No!”

“Yeah. She never responded, obviously, and he took her silence on the issue as embarrassment. Finally, after three years of waiting, he came home on leave and my aunt proposed to him.”

“How progressive.”

“Indeed. It was quite scandalous around St Mawes back then. They discovered that she never got the first proposal, and they all laughed about it and got married the next week.”

“Jesus, short engagement.”

“Well, he was heading back overseas. But that’s not the end of the story. Fast forward twenty years. Some korean land developers were clearing some forest, and they found an old shipping container that had fallen out of an airplane when it had gotten shot down. And inside…”

“No.”

“Yes. The original proposal. Ring and all. My aunt wears both of them now.”

“If I found an engagement ring in the woods, my first instinct would be to keep it.”

“Really?”

Robin considered.

“No, you’re right. All morality aside, I’d be too curious about the rightful owner.”

“A detective to your core.”

Robin glowed. She didn’t think she would ever get tired of Cormoran’s praise.

“So there’s Ted your uncle and Ted your nephew,” Robin asked. Does that get confusing?”

“Very. Although now Ted the younger is insisting on going by Theodore, which helps, although it sounds pretentious as all hell.”

“Sounds vaguely Edwardian, doesn’t it.” She stuck her nose in the air and put on her most posh accent. “Theodore, my good man, fetch me my opium.”

Cormoran laughed and joined in.

“Theodore, be a good chap and give the peasants their gruel.”

There was a gentle rapping at the door, and Robin turned to see two nurses.

“An operating room has opened up, Mister Strike,” one of them said, “We’re ready to get you prepped.” Robin slid out of bed, then leaned over and rested her forehead against his.

“I’ll see you on the flip side,” she murmured. Cormoran groaned.

“I wish you could stay.” 

She bent down to kiss him, a long, lingering kiss, until one of the nurses cleared his throat. Robin pulled back with a sly look in her eye. 

“You know there is something we could do,” she mused, “To guarantee that in the future I could stay through pre-op.”

Cormoran raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

Robin bit her lip, nervous.

“We could… Well, we could get married.” 

It took a moment, then Cormoran’s eyes grew wide. 

“Is that a proposal, Miss Ellacott?”

“No.” She narrowed her eyes. “But if it was… What would you say?”

Cormoran took a deep breath and let it out slowly, pondering. Robin had always sworn that she would never marry again. Matthew had agreed to pay her a decent amount of alimony if she didn’t remarry. So while Cormoran loved Robin with his whole heart and planned on spending his life with her, marriage seemed like a very fiscally irresponsible piece of paper.

“Would you be willing to do that?” he asked, “To give up your alimony?”

Robin looked down at Cormoran, scared and bruised and bandaged. Suddenly she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would pay any amount of money in the world to be able to stay just one more minute beside him at the hospital. The realization rocked her backwards. She covered her smile with her hand.

“Yes,” she said, “Yes, I think I would.”

He nodded slowly, considering this.

“Well then,” he said.

“Well indeed.”

“This is certainly... food for thought.”

“Alright,” the nurse said, “If I could have you get in the wheelchair, Mister Strike, we’ll be on our way to pre-op. Miss Ellacott, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.” 

“Right, sorry, I’m on my way out.” Robin clasped Cormoran’s hand. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you too.”

She walked backwards to the door, unwilling to break eye contact, unable to stop beaming.

“Bye,” she said, “I’ll see you in five hours.”

“Five hours. Good. I love you.”

“I love you.”


	5. Post-op

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly short one tonight.

“Tell me another one,” Cormoran said, his words slurred.

“Okay let me think.” They were lying on the bed, Cormoran’s arm elevated on a stack of pillows. It was encased in a giant square of yellow foam to keep it safe. Cormoran, high off his ass, had immediately named the foam square Spongebob.

“Alright, here’s one,” Robin said, “Ole comes home and sees Lena sitting naked on the bed. He says ‘Lena why are you naked?’ She says ‘I have nothing to wear!’ So Ole opens up the closet and says ‘that’s nonsense! I see a pink dress, a blue dress, my brother Sven, a flowered dress…’”

Cormoran furrowed his brow for a moment, trying to get the punchline. after a second of thought, he burst into giggles. 

“Because Lena and Sven were  _ having sex _ !” he crowed. Robin beamed. Throughout their years together, Robin had seen Cormoran in all states of inebriation. She had to say, this one was the sweetest. He was like a child, innocent and easily distracted. 

“Here’s another. Lena decides to enter a swimming contest. She comes in dead last. Afterwards she goes to the referee and says ‘Mister referee, I’d like to place a complaint! This was a contest for the breaststroke and some of those women was definitely using their arms!’”

Cormoran covered his face with his good hand and laughed like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

“Where did you learn all these?” he asked. Robin looked down, embarrassed.

“When I was eighteen I was so nervous about going to uni I got a joke book and memorized it. I thought it would make me more popular.”

“Did it work?”

“I was popular, but not because of the jokes. I learned pretty quickly that starting a conversation with ‘knock knock’ isn’t conducive for making friends.”

“I disagree.” Cormoran looked around blearily. “Do we have ice cream?” he asked. 

“No. I have M&Ms though.”

Cormoran sat up. 

“Yes! M&Ms!”

Robin fished around in her purse and pulled out a bag of M&Ms she had gotten from the vending machine. She poured some into Cormoran’s good hand. 

“I love you,” he said, lying back down, “You’re the most amazing woman in the world.” 

“I love you too.”

Cormoran chewed his M&Ms thoughtfully.

“You know when I figured it out?” he slurred.

“Hmm.” They’d had this conversation before, so Robin knew what the answer was. But she still loved to hear him say it.

“Day you got married. Yup. That was it.” He waved his hand vaguely. “You were like… Like a beam of light. You did this thing with your hair. And you smiled…” He put his hand to his heart like he’d been shot through. “I wish I could marry you, Robin. I really do.”

“You could.”

“Ahhhh. Marriage. It would kill us both.”

“You think so?”

“Mm. Marriage is the death of love. Tha’s what my mum used to say. Marriage will kill ya.”

“Pretty sure I’ve survived worse,” Robin said. Cormoran closed his eyes.

“Losing you…” He sighed. “That would be the worst. The worst.”

Robin put her arms around him.

“You’ll never lose me, Cormoran. Never.”

Cormoran responded with a snore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So about Ole and Lena: I am weirdly fascinated by these jokes. I learned them from a distant cousin, whose mother was a Swede who was disowned in WWII when she fell in love with a Norwegian. Today, the Swedes in my family use these jokes to pick on the Norwegians, and the Norwegians use them to pick on the Swedes. It's interesting to me to see how this rift that divided two families so drastically has become nothing more than a friendly ribbing in just two generations.


	6. The Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice and long today, to make up for yesterday's mini one. It's so lovely to be back! I've missed this very much, and I appreciate you all so so much. Your kudos and comments bring me so much joy.

They didn't arrive in Cornwall until past two. Joan met them at the door and immediately wrapped Cormoran in a huge embrace. Cormoran had told Robin that Lucy tried to emulate Joan, so Robin had been expecting somebody tidy, conventional, a bit dithering. Instead Joan looked like an aging hippy, with long white hair and high-waisted jeans. She squealed as she held Cormoran and rocked him back and forth. He grimaced as she jostled his arm.

“My little baby Cormoran is back home!” 

“Hey Aunt Joan.” Cormoran said.

“Hey is for horses,” Joan said, beaming. Cormoran pulled back.

“Robin, this is Joan.”

Robin held out her hand, and Joan pulled her into a tight hug. 

“Robin, dear, I have heard so much about you. It is wonderful to finally meet you.”

Ted clasped Cormoran’s shoulder in a manly embrace. “Alright, Cormoran?”

“Nah, I’m all left, now.”

It took a beat, where Ted’s eye roved from Cormoran’s broken right arm to his missing right leg. Realization dawned slowly across his face, then he threw his head back and roared with laughter. 

“All left! _Ha!_ That’s my boy. All left.”

Ted turned to Robin and held out a weathered hand for her to shake. The resemblance to Cormoran was striking. She wondered how Cormoran would look at the age of seventy. Ted’s face was sun-worn, and his hair was cropped shorter than Cormoran’s, but otherwise they were nearly identical.

“So Robin,” Ted growled, “I hear you like Ole and Lena jokes.”

“I do.”

Ted turned to Cormoran.

“You picked a good one, Cormoran.”

Joan ushered them all inside. The house was warm after the ocean wind outside, and it smelled like peaches.

“It smells wonderful in here,” Robin said.

“Ah, yes, well, I’m making peach tarts,” Joan said, leading them down a hallway, “Tomorrow is the parish picnic, and I’ll be manning a booth for the bakery. Lucy and the boys will be helping lead activities. We’d love for you to come along.”

“Yes!” Robin said, with excitement that made Cormoran look at her in surprise. She grinned and shrugged. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had a proper peach tart,” she said, “I’ve been missing small-town life desperately.”

“We’ll be delighted to have you,” Joan said, beaming. Cormoran knew that this was true. He hadn’t been to a parish picnic since he was a teenager, though Joan had invited him every year. The thought of seeing all of his childhood friends in one place, with all of their spouses and children, made him feel bitter and anxious. But with Robin beside him, maybe he could manage it.

“Robin, this room is yours,” Joan said, gesturing to a door, “And Cormoran will be staying right next door.” Robin shot Cormoran a glance. He grimaced apologetically. 

The room was beautiful, pale blue and white, with a queen-sized bed and long lace curtains on the windows.

“It’s a lovely room,” Robin said, “Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to settle in. Cormoran, I’m just placing you in your old room, if that’s alright.”

“Perfect, thank you.”

“Right. Well, I’ll let you two put your things down. There’s towels and such at the foot of your beds.”

“Thank you very much.”

As soon as Joan was out of earshot, Robin started giggling. 

“I’m sorry…” Cormoran whispered, pulling her close and grinning into her hair.

“Does she know we live together?” Robin whispered.

“She absolutely knows. She just doesn’t care.”

“Well, I respect a woman who stands by her beliefs,” Robin said. 

“I’m surprised that she put us next door to each other,” Cormoran said, “She must really like you. She used to house Charlotte in the attic.”

“Well that’s understandable, I’d like to lock Charlotte in an attic too,” Robin said, “Like Rochester’s wife.”

“There is a certain resemblance.” He looked around. “Lucky for you,” he said, “ I grew up here, and I know all the good places to sneak a shag.”

“Did that a lot, did you?”

“Back when I was young and beautiful.”

“Now you’re old and beautiful.” She kissed his chin. “Let’s get a tart.”

  
  


Lucy and the boys arrived soon after, in a tornado of manic energy, and they went to the living room to meet them. Photos of Cormoran and Lucy lined the walls of the living room, and Robin couldn’t held but giggle at the photographs of grumpy baby Cormoran.

“Cormoran came out of the womb an old man,” Lucy said. 

There was a photograph of a younger Ted in his SIB gear, and Robin had to do a double-take.

“You could be twins,” Robin said to Cormoran.

“Now you know where he gets his good looks,” Ted said.

“I always thought that was from my mum,” Cormoran said.

“Ahhh, no, your mum couldn’t hold a candle to me.” Ted pointed to another photograph, on top of the fireplace. “Now Robin, this is Cormoran when he was a red cap.”

Robin came over and looked at the photograph. A group of grinning men and women in the familiar uniforms of the SIB grinned back at her. They had their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. Cormoran was immediately recognizable, towering in the back. He was thinner, his hair was shorter, and his nose was marginally straighter, but he still had the lines around his eyes that formed when he smiled.

“You were a looker,” Robin said.

“I told you I was young and beautiful.”

“I prefer you now.” 

“You don’t have to say that, you know.”

Robin turned and stared at him.

“We’ve been together for nearly two years,” she said, “I think we’ve passed the false compliment phase.”

“Mm. Fair.” He pointed to a man in the photograph with curly dark hair and a winning smirk. “That’s Anstis.”

“No!” Robin squinted and leaned in. “I guess I can see it. Same left side.”

“Back when he had his whole face. And before he went grey.” He pointed to another man on his other side. “That’s Gary Topley. He died in the explosion.”

“What was he like?”

“Good guy. Great at impressions. He could mimic any accent, kind of like you.” He sniffed and changed the subject, moving his thumb over to a beautiful blonde woman who had her arm wrapped tight around Cormoran’s waist. “That’s Tracey, my girlfriend at the time.”

“Wow! She’s gorgeous.”

“She was very lovely, yes. Strong, too. Took no shit.”

“It must have been hard, being a woman in the SIB.”

“Christ, yeah. We already had to be tougher than all the other military guys. They hated us, considered us to be traitors. Then to be a woman on top of that… It wasn’t easy. But she was good at her job. She could do things, talk to women, especially local women, who didn’t want to talk to men.” He shot Robin a glance. “You two would get along, I think. You’re very similar.”

“Why’d you split up?”

“We wanted different things.”

“Marriage?”

“Something like that. I didn’t want that. Not with her. It was a pretty amicable split.” He moved his finger to a skinny red-headed man in the back. “She ended up marrying this guy, Stanley. They’ve got a bunch of ginger babies now.”

Beside the photograph was a large medal mounted on a bed of black velvet. 

“Here it is,” he said, “The Conspicuous Gallantry Cross.” The large silver cross was on a blue, white, and red ribbon, and had a crown embossed on the center.

“Gallantry. Makes you sound like a knight.”

“I know. And not just gallantry, but  _ conspicuous _ gallantry. Not only was I a knight, I was a knight and everybody saw it.” He moved the box so that the silver reflected the light. “Ugly thing, isn’t it. Tacky.”

“We’ve given up on trying to make him proud of it,” Ted told Robin, “But we’re proud of him, so we keep it here.”

“You should wear it everywhere,” Robin told Cormoran, grinning, “Use it as a necklace. Set a new fashion standard.”

Joan stuck her head out of the kitchen.

“Cormoran,” she called, “Could you run down to the store and grab me a dozen Pippin apples? Your uncle bought the wrong kind.”

“Apples are apples,” Ted rumbled.

“Pink Ladies are for eating,” Joan corrected, “Pippins are for baking.”

“Apples are apples,” he repeated.

“Take Jack with you,” Lucy said, “He’s driving me off the wall.”

Jack shouted “YAS!” and bounded into the room, grinning.

“Alright,” Cormoran said, “A dozen Pippin apples it is. Let’s go, Jack.”

Cormoran let Jack lead him out the front door. It was a bright, beautiful day, with a brisk breeze that made Cormoran glad for his jumper. A teenage boy was in the front yard next door, washing the car. Jack waved at him enthusiastically.

“Hello Sunny!” he called, “Hello, hello!”

The teenager turned to see who was calling, and waved vaguely in greeting. Jack waited until they were out of earshot, then said,

“That’s Sunny. He’s Teddy’s age. They say his dad was part of Mi6. Isn’t that crazy? Mi6! Like, an honest-to-God spy! I’ve asked Sunny about it, but he said that he doesn’t know anything about his dad’s past. He was probably told to say that, don’t you think? If I was in Mi6 I think I would have to keep everything confidential. Did you have to keep things confidential when you were in the army, Uncle Cormoran?”

“I did. Lots of secrecy. We called it ‘need-to-know.’”

“Wow!”

They walked down the hill. Jack, so often bounding ahead with speed, kept pace with Cormoran, who was moving slow on the cobblestones, not wanting his prosthesis to slip. Cormoran felt a sudden surge of affection for his nephew’s patience. They passed a small park, carved into the hillside.

“There used to be a playground here,” Cormoran said, “That’s where I slipped off the monkey-bars and broke my nose the first time.” He remembered going there with Dave at night and sneaking cigarettes on the swings.

“Why’d they take it out?” Jack asked.

“I guess it didn’t meet modern safety standards. I wasn’t the only kid who got hurt. Those monkey bars were high, and it was over concrete.” He pointed to another building. “That’s where your mum took ballet lessons.”

“ _ Mum _ took  _ ballet _ ?”

“She only did it so she could wear the outfits.” Cormoran nudged Jack. “Maybe she could teach you some moves.” They passed a nail salon. “That’s where I had my first date.”

“At a nail salon?”

“It was a cafe at the time. I was thirteen.”

“Mum says I can’t date until I’m thirteen.”

“That was Aunt Joan’s rule too.”

“I don’t care. I don’t really want to date.”

“I’m sure she’s very happy to hear that.”

“Teddy has a new girlfriend,” Jack said, “I like her, but mum and dad don’t.”

Cormoran was about to answer when he heard a mad shout and he felt somebody slam into him from behind. He lost his balance, his prosthetic slipping on the cobblestones. Thankfully, a pair or massive arms encircled him, holding him up. 

“IT’S DIDDY!” David Polworth shouted. 

“Ow! Chummy! Get off!

“DIDDY’S BACK IN TOWN!”

“Dave!”

“The wandering gypsy has returned!”

“Don’t use that term, it’s offensive.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, “Get woke, Dave!”

Dave let go of Cormoran. 

“It’s good to see you,” Dave said, “I heard your Robin is in town too.”

“She is.”

“About time. How long have you two been dating now?”

“A year and a half, more or less.”

“And you moved in together. How’s the new place?”

“It’s-“

“It’s AWESOME!” Jack burst in, “It’s got a lift and a balcony, and all these handholds all over, that you can climb on, like a jungle gym!”

“Ah, yes, we crutch-proofed the place, so that I can get around one-legged,” Cormoran said, “Straps and handholds and such. Jack likes to climb on them.”

“Are you going to the parish picnic tomorrow?” David asked.

“Of course.”

That night, after a massive dinner of shepherd's pie, Cormoran lay awake in his childhood bedroom, alone and deeply disoriented. The same old sounds and smells made him feel like he’d fallen back in time. But he was no longer a child, in a child’s room. It felt like a circus funhouse: he was stretched out too big, and the rest of the house was squeezed tight and small. He felt the weight of the years resting heavily on him; his extra pounds, his missing leg, his graying hairs. Inside he still felt like the kid who had slept in that room thirty years earlier. 

He heard his door open quietly, then shut, and the quiet padding of feet approached his bed. He rolled over to face Robin as she crawled in next to him.

“Can’t sleep alone,” she said. Her nightgown was made of some slippery soft material that slid around beneath Cormoran’s hands.

“This is new,” he said, fingering the fabric.

“It’s for warm weather. I can hardly wear my flannels here.”

“I like it.”

“What time does your aunt usually wake up in the morning?”

“5:30.”

“So early!”

“I know. She’s used to being at the bakery early to start up the ovens.”

“So I should be sneaking out of your room around five?”

Cormoran sighed heavily.

“Probably.”

“We still have five hours.” Robin wrapped her legs around his. “Is it strange being back?” 

“Yeah.”

The wind blew through the open window, fluttering the curtain and bringing in the smell of the sea. Cormoran put his arms around Robin and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

“I’m glad we came, though,” he murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a bit of a TMI life slice: this past year has been very difficult in that a combination of trauma and medication has rendered me completely incapable of sexual attraction, and in fact most sex scenes or even passionate kissing in shows makes me feel vaguely sick and panicked. I've finally gotten to the point where I will read E rated fanfics, but I'll skip all the smut and just read the snuggles afterwards. SO how does this impact y'all? You might notice a distinctive lack of sexytimes compared to past writings. I'm giving it a shot, we'll see how it goes.


	7. The Parish Picnic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all of you for your incredible support and amazing comments. It made me all teary to see the outpouring of love and care.  
I wrote this chapter right after our own parish picnic this year. It's basically just a big gossip fest and it's SO FUN.

Saturday arrived warm, with a clear blue sky and very little wind. Robin wore a mid-length off the shoulder blue dress with a flippy skirt. Cormoran found himself captivated by her white freckled shoulders.

“What are you looking at?” Robin asked, as they made their way down to the field where the picnic would be held.

“You’re absolutely stunning,” he said. Robin beamed. “I mean it. People are going to think I coerced you.”

“I’ll tell them all I’m secretly a prostitute that you hired to act as your girlfriend,” Robin said.

“Like Pretty Woman,” Cormoran said.

“Exactly.”

“Only instead of Richard Gere, Julia Roberts ends up with Danny DeVito.”

“Now  _ that’s  _ a movie I’d watch.” She stopped walking and looked Cormoran in the eye. “You’re gorgeous, Cormoran. You got me all on your own. And everyone will see it. Besides, since when do you care what people think?”

“Since I’m about to see all of my childhood friends in one place.”

The field was set up with a long line of tables on one side, heavily laden with hotdogs and burgers. The Boy Scouts, the PTA members, and the church had set up stations around the field, each with a different activity or field-game. There was a man in a police uniform in the middle of the field, shouting orders from a megaphone. 

“Jesus,” Cormoran said, “That’s Adam Kennedy!”

“Who?” Robin asked.

“We were friends in school. Never took him for the police type. He was a bit quiet and nerdy.”

Cormoran spotted Lucy at the egg-race station and gave her a wave.

“Save me a spot,” Lucy called, “My shift here is done in fifteen minutes!”

Robin went to get them both burgers, and Cormoran set up his lawn chair under an old oak tree. The chair was low to the ground, and he knew that it would be torture to stand up again.

Robin returned ten minutes later with two burgers, laden high with toppings, and four bags of crisps between them. She settled herself against Cormoran’s legs, giving him a lovely view down the front of her dress. He leaned in for what he thought was a covert look.

“Cormoran Blue Strike,” she teased, “Are you looking down my dress?”

“Am I not supposed to?”

Robin looked around to make sure that nobody was listening in, then murmured,

“You can see my whole naked tits any time you want. Why go for the half-clothed experience?”

“Why not?” he murmured, “I can do both. I got time.”

Nick, Ilsa, and Alice took that moment to arrive in a flurry of noise and color.

“Watch out, there’s children present,” Nick said, spreading their blanket out beside Robin’s, “Keep it in your pants.”

Alice was three years old now, and lurching around like a tiny drunkard. The doctor had hoped that a hearing aid would help Alice’s speech, and it had, slightly. Her vocabulary consisted of twelve words, and several things that Nick and Ilsa were sure she meant as words, but which nobody had yet managed to translate. She was still far below average, however, and as much as Ilsa declared that the charts were bullshit, Cormoran could tell that they were nervous. Now Alice was practicing her football dive, running and then throwing herself face-first onto the grass with peels of laughter. 

Cormoran loved Alice more than his own life. She was joy incarnate, and she was perfect. The only problem was that he couldn’t look at her without cracking up. She had thick rubber glasses and enormous clown-wig head of copper hair. Today she was in a pair of pink rumba-bottoms and nothing else. Every time he tried to start a sentence, he saw her running past and he was consumed with the giggles. 

“Are you laughing at my daughter, Cormoran?” Ilsa asked. 

“She’s just—“ he buried his face in Robin’s shoulder to catch his breath. “She’s just so-“

“Remember, she’s got more of your DNA than ours,” Nick said, “So watch what you say.”

“Please,” Cormoran said, composing himself, “I have no delusions about my looks. And I never said that she was not a gorgeous kid. She is. She’s beautiful. She’s just-“ Alice went running past again, this time with a grave expression, like a tiny business woman on her way to a meeting, before belly-flopping on the ground. He collapsed into peels of laughter. 

“Halloo!” came a call from behind them. Lucy approached in a floral kimono and floppy sun-hat, closely followed by Dave Polworth.

“Is there room for two more?” Lucy asked.

“Always,” Ilsa said, “Where’s the others?”

“Hard at work,” Lucy said, “Greg is helping Uncle Ted with the grill, of course. Jack and Junior are leading the water balloon toss. Theodore isn’t doing anything. He’s with his  _ girlfriend.”  _ She said it with a pronounced glower. 

“Jack mentioned Theodore had somebody new,” Cormoran said. 

“About five minutes new. Her name is Gemma. I guess they met last month, when we came down for spring holiday. You know teenagers. They started dating last week.”

“Ah, to be young and impulsive,” Dave said.

“Greg doesn’t approve,” Lucy said, “He says that she’s a bit wild.”

“Yes, well, Greg thinks putting honey on toast is a bit wild,” Cormoran said.

The field was beginning to fill up with people, and Robin was glad that they had arrived a bit early, and snagged a spot in the shade. 

“Oh, look,” Ilsa said, “there’s Adam Kennedy. Hallo, Adam!” The police officer waved and kept moving. He was tall and lanky, with dark hair beginning to go to grey.

“I was surprised to see him,” Cormoran said, “I haven’t seen him since I was sixteen.”

“He’s our sergeant now,” Dave said, “And he adopted a son.”

“Ah, yes, Hugo. He’s Theodore’s age,” Lucy said.

“Lucy, didn’t you snog Adam when you were thirteen?” Ilsa asked Lucy. Cormoran’s jaw dropped, and Lucy laughed. 

“God, you’re right. I did. He was my first kiss. That was  _ ages _ ago. I must have been in seventh year.”

“I didn’t know you did that,” Cormoran said, stunned.

“Of course you didn’t,” Lucy said, “You were my brother. You were the last person I’d tell. Besides, it was embarrassing. I kissed him, he freaked out, and we never looked each other in the eye again.”

“I remember that,” Ilsa said, “You took him down to the sea caves and tried to kiss him and he ran away.”

“The sea caves?” Cormoran said, “That was my spot! I thought I was the only one to snog in those caves.” He shuddered. “My sister and I both had our first kiss in the same place. Is that weird?”

“I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t think you’d approve of me fancying Adam,” Lucy said. “I didn’t want you to go all protective on me.”

“I wouldn’t have. I liked Adam a lot.”

“Exactly,” Lucy said, “You were too good of friends. It would have been weird.”

“You two were probably the only ones who liked him,” Dave said. 

“Yes, well. He was also being raised by a single mum, so he understood that stuff,” Lucy said. 

“All I remember was that he was very quiet,” Ilsa said, “He kept to himself mostly. Wasn’t he a prefect?”

“Yeah. Always busting us for smoking behind the church,” Dave said, “He was head of the Christian Club, too.”

Cormoran remembered going to church with Adam once, when Adam had invited him. He had never seen Adam so animated and excited. Adam had sung with his arms thrown out, beaming. He had spoken in front of the group and had choked up when he talked about God being a father to the fatherless. Everywhere else, Adam had been silent and robotic, staring out from under a pronounced unibrow. In church, though, he had been animated and funny.

“Prefect and Christian club,” Robin said, “Sounds like it would make for a rough teenage experience.” 

“He wasn’t bullied too badly,” Dave said, “After all, he was friends with Cormoran.” 

“What do you mean?” Robin asked. 

“Big brother here had a reputation of toughness,” Lucy said, punching Cormoran’s shoulder. 

Robin turned to look at Cormoran for confirmation. He shrugged.

“People knew not to mess with my friends,” he said. 

“That’s... Incredibly sexy,” Robin admitted.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Never thought you’d go for the machismo thing,” Cormoran said.

Robin shrugged.

“If it’s for a good cause.”

“I always assumed that Adam would go into the ministry,” Lucy said, “He was so fired up about Jesus.”

“He would make a good priest,” Dave said, “He never married. Never even dated, as far as I know. We were all a bit surprised when he decided to take on single fatherhood.” He pointed to the group of scouts leading the three-legged race. “See that tall kid in the back? His name is Hugo.”

Tall was an understatement. The kid in the back towered over all of the rest. Cormoran guessed that he was at least six and a half feet. The boy was hunched over to try and hide his height, but all it did was give him an awkward, frightened look. His face was lumpy and misshapen, and he had a liberal spattering of acne to top it all off.

“Jesus Christ,” Cormoran said, “He’s almost as big as me.”

“At least,” Nick said.

“The other children don’t include him,” Lucy said with a sniff, “I tried to get Theodore to invite Hugo over for tea, but Theodore called it social suicide. Poor kid. I did convince Theodore to be friendly, at least, and say hello. But Theodore would rather hang out with those little spoiled royals over there.” 

She gestured over to the other end of the field, where a group of teenagers sat, uninterested in the goings-on of the picnic. They were tanned, fit, perfect. A few of the boys kicked around a football while the girls looked on. They paid no attention to the fete, or anyone else.

“They look…” Robin searched for the word. “Popular.”

“Ah, well,” Lucy said, “Not really. Popular means you have a lot of friends, doesn’t it? They only hang out with each other. And according to the boys, nobody actually likes them overly much. Except for Theodore. Who knows why.”

“Diddy, I forget, when you were in school did you know Amelia Webb?” Dave asked.

“I did,” Cormoran said appreciatively, “I knew her in the biblical sense.”

“You didn’t!” Lucy shrieked. Cormoran shrugged. 

“It was a one time thing. A rebound for her. A bit awkward all around.”

“Well, she became a paramedic, and married Jimmy Wilson,” Dave said, “That girl in the white bikini is their daughter, Lisa.”

Cormoran couldn’t remember anyone named Jimmy Wilson, and had limited interest in the subject. He looked over at the girl reclining on her picnic blanket and grunted in acknowledgement.

Lucy pointed to one of the boys kicking the football around. 

“She’s dating Sunny. You met Sunny already, right? He lives next door to Joan and Ted.” She lowered her voice to a dramatic stage whisper. “They say his father was a secret agent.”

“Oh God, and he won’t let anybody forget about it,” David chimed in, “I was a scout leader one summer and Sunny was in my troup. God above, his dad Spencer never shut up about the bloody Russians and how he used to fight them off bare handed.”

“Oh yes, I heard he got kicked out of the scouts,” Lucy said, “For smoking weed.” She looked far too pleased by this bit of gossip. “His father was furious. Joan and Ted heard them arguing from their house.” 

Cormoran didn’t care much about the various foibles of the local youths, but he did admire the boy’s talent with the football. He was lithe and graceful, making the game look more like dancing than a sport. 

“Oh and there’s Theodore and Gemma,” Lucy said. Sure enough, there was Lucy’s oldest, standing rather awkwardly near the barbecue. Everything Theodore did was rather awkward. He still had a layer of baby fat that Lucy swore would turn into muscle someday, and his face was pitted with angry red spots. He had grown about four inches in his fifteenth year, and it still hadn’t quite caught up with him, which meant that he was very clumsy and uncomfortable in his own body.

The girl beside him, however, was nothing short of stunning. Gemma was thin, with caramel skin and a dancer’s body. She had a cumulus afro that had been bleached and dyed pink so that it looked like cotton candy, or a cloud at sunset. While the sunbathing girls all looked identically perfect, Gemma had thick dark eyebrows that made her face dramatic and interesting, and nobody who looked at her would forget for a while. She was wearing a denim jacket with a large hammer and sickle stenciled on the back, and ripped up jeans covered in safety pins.

Greg was clearly aware of her presence, and was glaring down at his hotdogs like they had done him a personal wrong. 

“Greg looks absolutely thrilled about her,” Cormoran said.

“Why exactly does Greg not like her?” Robin asked.

“Oh, who knows why Greg is the way he is,” Lucy said vaguely, “I guess she claims to be a communist. She’s very political. But you know how teenagers are. They grow out of things.”

Cormoran secretly wondered if Greg’s aversion to Gemma had more to do with the color of her skin than her political affiliation, but he knew better than to voice that thought aloud.

Down the field, people began lining up for a three-legged race.

“Hey Cormoran,” Nick said, “Care to join me in a three-legged race?”

“That would be unfair for the rest of the players. I’ve had years of practice.”

“I’ll join you,” Ilsa told Nick, “Robin? Dave? Lucy? You want to join?”

“Alright,” Lucy said, “Robin? Want to be a team?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll stay here with Diddy,” Dave said, “We can watch the kid.” 

They all collectively turned and looked at Alice, who was devouring half a hamburger like a wild animal, her face covered in ketchup. 

“Once you give her food she’s easy,” Ilsa said, “She’s like a wolf. Nothing will distract her from eating.”

Cormoran watched Lucy and Robin run hand-in-hand to the three-legged race. Lucy had never had a lot of friends as a child, and even as an adult most of her relationships seemed superficial. Lucy had certainly never been friends with any of Cormoran’s girlfriends before, though she had liked Tracey well enough. She had managed to show Charlotte a bare sense of civility that Charlotte never returned. With Robin, though, Lucy seemed lighter, younger, even showing an occasional sense of humor. 

“I’m glad that you get to spend time with Robin,” Cormoran said.

“She’s cute,” Dave said, “And, you know. Sane.”

“Clearly not that sane, if she’s with me. But compared to my past girlfriends, yes.”

“And it’s going well?”

“It was. It is.”

“It was?”

“It is. She’s great.” 

“You said  _ was _ ,” Dave teased, “We both heard it.”

Cormoran rolled his eyes. 

“She’s divorced,” he said, “And she gets alimony as long as she stays single. Which was really perfect, because it left us without that pressure. We could just be what we were. But then…” He shrugged.

“Then she wanted to get married.”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t?”

“I don’t know. I thought I wanted to marry Charlotte, but then as soon as we got engaged she went completely insane.”

“Please. Charlotte was always insane. You were the only one who couldn’t see that.”

“So you think I should marry Robin?”

“I barely know the woman! Don’t give me responsibility over your whole damn future!”

“Sorry,” Cormoran said, grinning.

“But she clearly makes you happy. I think you should hold onto her.”

Alice toddled over to Cormoran and sat herself down in his lap.

“Oh, hello Alice,” he said. He was still always surprised that this little child actively sought out his company. She beamed up at him, her crooked teeth jutting out like a jack-o-lantern. She pointed to where Nick and Ilsa were hoofing their way to the finish line, connected at the ankle.

“Mama!” she said.

“You’re right,” Cormoran said, “That’s Mama and Daddy.” He pointed at Dave. “That’s Dave. Can you say Dave?”

Alice blinked at Dave, who waved at her. She looked up at Cormoran, confused.

“What about my name?” Cormoran asked. Nick and Ilsa had been trying to teach Alice Cormoran’s name for a year already, to no result. “Can you say Cormoran?”

Alice thought for a minute, then said, “Coma?”

“Ahhhh that’s so badass,” Dave said, “Coma Strike! You sound like a punk rocker!”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Cormoran watched Robin and Lucy topple over, laughing. 


	8. The Cave

Robin’s alarm sounded at four, and she waited several long moments before rolling to turn it off. Cormoran groaned and put his arm around her waist, pulling her back to bed.

“Cormoran, your aunt and uncle…”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“Cormoran…”

“Stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

“They won’t know. Stay with me.”

Robin yawned and laid back down beside him.

“You make a very persuasive argument.”

“Mmm.” He spoke into his pillow, still mostly asleep. “I’m going out with Ilsa and Lucy tomorrow morning, by the way. But you can't come."

"No?"

"No. I want their help getting you a birthday gift.”

“My birthday is still months away.”

“‘S a good one,” he murmured, then started snoring.

Robin woke up alone, and in desperate need of a bathroom. The clock on the wall read 9:00, and she cursed under her breath. She tiptoed to the door, looked both ways, then crept down the hall to the toilet. 

“Good morning.”

Robin jumped at the low ragged voice and whirled around. Uncle Ted was sitting in the kitchen, a mug in his hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I-“ Robin glanced to Cormoran’s door and tried to think of what to say.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ted said, “Joan has her eccentricities. I couldn’t care less.” He gestured to a tea kettle on the stove. “Sit down. Would you care for some tea?”

“Sure, um, give me one minute.”

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face. She felt like a teenager caught in the act, not a grown-ass woman. She took a deep breath and went back out to the kitchen, where Ted was waiting with a mug of tea for her.

“Thanks.” Robin sipped the tea and grimaced.

“I see where Cormoran gets his taste in strong tea,” she said. Ted chuckled.

"It'll put hair on your chest," he said.

"Ah, is that where he gets it." As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Robin cringed back in embarrassment. Ted just chuckled.

“We’re glad to have you here,” he said.

“Well. I’m very glad to be here. You two have been awfully kind, letting us stay.”

“It’s been good.” He sipped at his coffee. “Joan worries about the boy. Worries that he’s lonely. Or hurting.” He took a last long drink from his mug. “Always been independent, he has.”

“He’s certainly that. But we make it work.”

“I know you do. I think she’ll worry a bit less, now. Mm. Now that she’s met you.”

Robin didn’t know what to say to this, so she sat and drank her tea in silence.

Cormoran greeted Robin two hours later with a boyish energy that she had rarely seen on him.

“I want to show you something,” he said, bouncing on his toes, “Get dressed. Wear a swimsuit.” Robin raised an eyebrow. He already had his swim trunks on, and the plastic waterproof covering for his splint.

After a hurried lunch of leftover shepherds pie, he got in the Land Rover and guided her to a small empty parking lot about fifteen minutes away. The parking lot didn’t seem to have any destination; there was no path, or even a beach, just an outcropping of rocky bluff, spotted with the occasional lounging seal.

“Come on.” He started to hobble down the rocks, slipping a bit on the seaweed. Robin looked at him like he had lost his mind. “Come on!” he shouted again, this time teetering slightly on his prosthesis. Robin hurriedly ran to him and put her arm around his waist. 

It was low tide, and the rocks stank of small creatures slowly drying out in the sun. Seagulls cried out overhead, circling for a meal. 

“Look over there,” Cormoran said, pointing, “See the seals?”

Sure enough, a herd of fat seals blubbered away from them and rolled back into the sea. Robin found herself consumed by giggles watching them.

“They’re wonderful!”

Cormoran led Robin down until they reached a low area, where the rock turned smooth, with tidepools and small sandy spots. Robin tried to avoid treading on anemones, but they were everywhere and she couldn’t help but smash a few. She was amazed at Cormoran’s steadiness on the rocks.

“How are you keeping your footing better than me?” Robin asked. Cormoran smiled.

“This is where I learned to walk,” he said, “Both times, actually. I was an infant here, then I came here for my rehab after losing my leg.”

“You’re like a mountain goat. You walk better on stony cliffs than on flat ground.”

“My personality does get more goat-like every day.” Cormoran checked his watch. “During high tide this area is all under three feet of water,” he said, “We should be fine for at least two hours, and the tide comes in slow here.” He turned a sharp right and ducked into a small cave in the rock face. “Here we are.”

Robin followed him and gasped. It was a beautiful cave, with light filtering down through a hole in the ceiling, and perfect sandy-bottomed pools of blue water scooped out of the rocky floor.

“Oh, it’s lovely.”

“I used to come here a lot as a kid.”

“Bring all the girls here, did you?” Robin asked, grinning. Cormoran shrugged with a mock-guilty expression.

“It’s a very romantic spot,” he said.

Cormoran eased off his prosthetic and left it on the rocky embankment beside his sling and brace. He teetered a moment before jumping down into the nearest pool with a shout of cold. The cool blue water came up to his chest, and he bounced for a moment, grinning up at Robin. 

She took off her dress, revealing a vintage style black bikini, and lowered herself in beside him. She had gotten sunburned at the picnic, and she shivered as the cool water touched her burned skin.

“Jesus Christ, is that a sunburn?” Cormoran exclaimed. Robin turned to look the angry red skin across her shoulders.

“It’s okay,” she said, “At least it didn’t blister.”

“Blister? Is that a common thing for you?”

“Ever summer as a kid.”

“Christ, you are white,” Cormoran said. Robin wheeled around and splashed him hard. Cormoran yelped laughing, and splashed her back. Robin dipped down under the surface. Cormoran was captivated by the way her hair looked under the water, like seaweed, like the fins of a fish. She resurfaced, her hair streaming over her face, and spat out salt water.

“You look like Aphrodite,” Cormoran said, “Born of the sea foam.”

“Wasn’t she married to the god of war?” She grinned. “It fits.”

“She had affairs with Ares, the god of war, but they weren’t married. The man she was married to fits even better than that.”

“Oh?”

“She was married to Hephaestus. The crippled god.”

“No!”

“Yes.” Cormoran leaned back in the water and quoted, “‘ _ Hephaestus went the way of these, in the pride of his great strength limping, and yet his shrunken legs moved lightly beneath him.’ _ "

Robin ran a hand through Cormoran’s hair, which was springy from the water.

“You look like a selkie,” she said.

“Aren’t selkies supposed to be all women?”

“Oh, no. There are male selkies.” She bobbed up and down and chanted, “ _ I am a man upon the land, I am a selkie of the sea, and when I’m far and far from land, my home it is the sule skerrie. _ ”

“What’s that?”

“My mum used to sing it to me. It’s very sad, actually. A selkie comes to shore and has a baby with a mortal woman, then comes back and takes the baby back to the sea. Then the woman marries a seal hunter, and her new husband accidentally kills both her son and her selkie lover.”

“Seems like a poor choice, marrying a seal hunter when your son is half seal,” Cormoran remarked. Robin just smiled and rolled over to float on her back. Cormoran didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful than her wet white skin slipping through the water. He reached out and gently ran his hand along her pale stomach. Robin righted herself under his touch, coming up very close to him. She rested her forehead on his and put her arms around his neck. Droplets were gathered on his thick curly hair.

“Listen, Robin…”

“Hmmm?”

“I wanted to ask you about something.”

She pulled back.

“Sounds ominous.”

“Before my surgery, you mentioned…”

Robin covered her face with her hands.

“Oh, God, Cormoran, I didn’t mean to push you into anything. I was just…”

“I know. I know. It’s fine. I wanted to-”

He was interrupted by a massive wave, smacking them both across the face and filling his mouth with salt water. They both coughed and spat, Robin consumed by laughter.

“What did you say about high tide coming in slow here?”

“I may have- fuck- been slightly mistaken.”

They arrived back at Joan and Ted’s house with all of their clothes and shoes soaked through.


	9. The Joan of Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've got some plot, baby!

Ted’s 70th birthday was celebrated that evening. Joan was a fabulous hostess, there was no doubt about that. They pushed two tables together on the large back porch, to fit the Herberts, Ilsa’s parents, Cormoran and Robin, Joan and Ted, and Lucy, Greg, and the boys. A brisk wind blew off the sea, but the black bean soup was spicy and kept them warm enough. Robin sat close to Cormoran, their legs touching. 

“Have you heard about Claude and Dan?” Aunt Joan said, “Claude’s daughter Julia is moving in with them.” 

Uncle Ted harrumphed in agreement. Robin was quickly catching on that this was the main way that they communicated: Joan talking and Ted making vague noises.

“I’m glad to see that she’s back taking care of him. His health was never good,” Joan continued, “She was quite angry with him for a while there, although I don’t know why.” 

“It’s because he’s gay,” Ilsa said between mouthfuls of soup. Greg looked scandalized and glanced at his sons, like somehow the word “gay” would convert them.

“Who, Claude?” Joan said, “Nonsense!”

“It would make sense,” Lucy chimed in, “He and Dan have lived together for what, ten years now?”

“They’re just good friends,” Joan insisted.

“It’s a shame,” Greg said, “Before the gays started coming out everywhere, two men could live together no problem. Nobody would bat an eye. But now two men can’t even hold hands without everybody assuming that they’re gay. It’s an end of same-sex friendship.”

Robin looked over at Cormoran, whose eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. She held her napkin over her mouth in an attempt to stifle a giggle. 

“I wouldn’t say that’s the fault of the gays,” Ted rumbled.

“Claude and Dan…” Joan murmured to herself, “Gay? No…”

“There’s a meteor shower tonight,” Jack said loudly. The whole table turned to look at him.

“Is that so?” Robin said, “That sounds like fun. What time?”

“Late. Like midnight. I asked Mum if I could stay up and watch, and she said no.”

“Like there’s anything I can really do about it,” Lucy said, looking harried, “What am I going to do, chain him to the bed?”

“What about you, Lucy, will you watch?” Robin asked.

“No. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Cormoran, you should take Robin down to the boat,” Ted said, “Watch from there.”

Robin looked up at Cormoran, her eyes wide and excited.

“You have a boat?” she asked.

“This is St. Mawes. Everybody has a boat. It’s the only way to get around.”

Cormoran and Robin went down to the boat around ten, bundled up against the night’s chill. The overhead lights on the dock had been turned out so that the stars would be more visible, leaving only the small pathway lights on the base of the pier for people to find their way. Cormoran pointed out the various boast as they walked.

“That’s the _Miss Behavin_, it belongs Gwenifer Arscot,” Cormoran said, “And the _Clair de Lune_, that belongs to the Webb family.” A long stretch of pier to their right branched out into the darkness, with a large sign marked “PRIVATE PROPERTY: DO NOT ENTER” on it.

“What’s down there?” Robin asked.

“That’s where the_ Apollo_ is docked,” Cormoran said, “It belongs to the Morrises. It’s the nicest boat here, so they bought a whole stretch of private dock just for themselves. The sods. And this is ours.” Cormoran stopped at the end of the dock, in front of a twenty foot West Wight Potter, painted light blue. “This is my family’s boat.”

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” 

“It’s named the _Joan of Arc_. You know, like Noah’s ark, but also my aunt Joan, and also Joan of Arc.”

“It’s lovely. Do you know how to sail?”

“I used to. I haven’t in years, though.” Cormoran unlocked the cabin and ducked inside, his prosthesis slipping a bit on the fiberglass step. He couldn’t stand fully upright in the cabin, and only stayed below long enough to grab several blankets and cushions from the tiny sleeping quarters. He came up and spread them out on the slanted fore-deck that served as the cabin’s roof.

“Not the most comfortable, but it’ll do.”

They laid back on the pile of blankets and stared up at the sky. The stars spread out above them, so high and infinite it made Robin dizzy, and she buried her face in Cormoran’s side. 

“I missed stars so much when I first moved to London,” she said, “Now it’s just overwhelming. There’s too many of them.”

Cormoran wrapped the blankets around them both and kissed the top of Robin’s head.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

“Me too.” He could feel her smile against his chest. “I love your family.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Even Greg?”

Robin snorted.

“He’s got his own quirky charm.”

Cormoran mimicked Greg’s monotonous voice, and said, “‘Before the gays started coming out everywhere…’” 

Robin dissolved into giggles.

“All those gays are popping up like daisies, they are,” she said.

“‘Back before the gays, men could snog all day, and nobody would make any assumptions…’”

“I’m curious about all the platonic hand-holders Greg used to know.”

“Probably all guys like Claude and Dan.”

Robin wiped tears of laughter out of her eyes.

“Your aunt and uncle are very sweet,” she said.

“I forgot how much they bicker.”

“You should see my parents.” 

“Joan and Ted are the happiest, healthiest couple I know, married for ages, madly in love. But they can nag each other like it was an Olympic sport.”

“When I was a kid I thought my parents were this fairy-tale perfect romance. Never unhappy, always just super dreamy. Then I realized that life is not that simple. Figuring out issues together, going through the hard stuff together, accepting differences and issues. That’s love.” 

“Do you ever miss the fairy-tale fantasy?” Cormoran asked.

“Of course.” She stared up at the sky. “But I’d rather be in reality with you.”

"Listen, Robin, what I was going to say today..."

Before Cormoran could finish, a piercing shriek rang out across the docks. It was the kind of scream that stuck in your mind. Not the high, loud, theatrical scream of old crime dramas, but the shriek of horror that starts as a breath and rises into a howl. Cormoran and Robin leapt to their feet, Cormoran staggering a bit in his haste. 

“Help!” a high female voice cried, “Get help!”

“I think that’s coming from the Apollo,” Cormoran said.

Robin jumped off the boat in two strides and started pounding down the pier. Cormoran slid off the boat after her and started hobbling along, feeling impotent and slow. 

“Robin, wait!” he called, “It might not be safe!”

Robin slowed and turned.

“Exactly,” she argued, “Somebody needs help! And I need to get there now!”

She kept going, vaulting over the Private Property gate and tearing towards the source of the noise. Cursing, Cormoran lurched as fast as he could towards the boat. He saw Robin ahead of him, leaping up onto the deck of The Apollo. 

“I’m here!” Robin shouted, “Don’t worry!” The woman stopped screaming, and Cormoran heard Robin say, “ _ Oh fuck! _ ”

Cormoran pulled himself on board The Apollo, slipping a bit with a stab of pain. 

The boat was chaos. There was a pool of blood on the deck, and it smeared a trail down into the cabin. Robin was on deck, yelling into the phone. 

“There’s a boy been stabbed,” she shouted into the phone, “At St. Mawes Landing! Come quick! There’s- Oh bugger, I’ve lost connection.” 

Cormoran climbed down into the cabin, ignoring the throbbing in his knee. There was a body on the white padded sofa, facing the wall. Gemma Mae was beside it, wearing nothing but her underwear, blood up to her elbows, her hands pressed to the wound in the body’s back. She was pale, her face streaked with tears, but she had stopped screaming 

“I don’t have a phone,” she gasped, “I’m sorry. I can’t leave him.”

“I called 999,” Robin said from behind Cormoran, “They’re on their way.”

Cormoran came closer and saw that the body belonged to Sunny Morris. 

“Is he still alive?”

“I-I think so.”

Cormoran felt for the boy’s pulse and found it still pumping. 

“Yes,” he said, “He’s still with us.”

He turned to Gemma. She was wearing lacy white lingerie, and was stemming the blood flow with what appeared to be her own dress. Cormoran put his hand over both of hers and pressed down hard on the wound. “I’ve got it,” he said, “you can let go.” She let go and immediately put her hands to her face, leaving red streaks across her cheeks like war paint. Robin wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“Is there a first aid kit on the boat?” Robin asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I-”

“Okay. You’re okay.” Robin looked around the tiny cabin and spotted a bottle of contact lens solution by the sink. She grabbed it, ripped the cap off with her teeth, and handed to Cormoran. He thanked her wordlessly and poured it over the wound. Once clean, he could see that the wound was about two inches long, deep but straight. 

He moved the dress back over the wound and continued putting pressure on the area. 

“What happened?” Robin asked. 

“I don’t know,” Gemma said, “We were down here. He heard a noise outside. He went out onto the pier. Then I heard him yell, and…” Her voice grew high and wobbly. “And I ran out and he was bleeding… And I pulled him down here, and… And I don’t have a phone…”

“It’s okay,” Robin said, “You did great. He’s going to be okay.”

Sirens were approaching on shore, and Robin climbed back on deck. Cormoran could hear her shouting for them. After a few moments he felt the boat rocking as the paramedics came on board.

Amelia Webb’s face appeared in the doorway. She was wearing scrubs and carrying a fold-up stretcher, and Cormoran remembered Lucy mentioning that she’d become a paramedic.

“Cormoran,” she said in greeting.

“Mia. Good to see you.” He moved to the side, not releasing his pressure on the boy’s wound. “He’s been stabbed, or impaled, or something.” 

Amelia placed her gloved hands over his on the wound.

“We’ll take it from here,” she said, “Wait outside. The police are coming from the Truro station, they’ll be about fifteen minutes.”

Cormoran backed away, pressing against the wall as the tiny cabin filled with paramedics. 

He found Robin on the dock, her arm wrapped around Gemma’s shoulder. Gemma was wearing Robin’s trench coat over her blood-streaked lingerie. The coat came down to her knees, and dangled loosely below her hands. Curious gawkers were gathered around the pier, and Gemma pulled the coat tight around her like she was hoping it might swallow her up completely. 

“Are you hurt?” Cormoran asked. Gemma shook her head. Her eyes were wide, and her breath was so shallow Cormoran couldn’t tell if she was breathing at all. He bent down to look her in the eye. “You’re going to be okay,” he said, “And so is Sunny. You’re both going to be okay."

“He’s alive?” Gemma asked. The question was answered by the paramedics emerging from the boat’s cabin, carrying Sunny on a stretcher. They ran down the dock with practiced synchronicity, and loaded the stretcher into the ambulance. 

“Do you need to sit down?” 

She nodded again. The three of them sat on the edge of the boat, their legs dangling off the side. The wind blew in the smell of a storm, and Gemma shivered.

“The police are going to ask you some questions,” Robin said, “Answer them the best you can. If you don’t know, you can say that you don’t know. But answer as best you can.”

“They’re going to take me away,” Gemma gasped, “I live in my car. I don’t have anywhere to go. If they find out- If- If they-”

“Shhhh…” Robin pulled her close. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t you worry.”

Finally, after what felt like an hour, a police car pulled up in the parking lot, lights flashing. Gemma shut her eyes tight. 

The police officer was young, and he took one look at the blood on the boat and turned a horrible shade of taupe. He nodded quickly at Robin, then hurried down the dock, dialing his cellphone.

“Officer Kennedy?” he said, “We need you immediately.” 

Cormoran turned to Robin.

“I’m going to talk to the police,” he said, “Explain what’s going on. You stay here with her.”

Robin nodded. Gemma needed some space, some quiet, before the bombardment of the police investigation. 


	10. Questioning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all like MYSTERIES!

When Adam Kennedy arrived at the crime scene, the crowds of onlookers parted to let him in. Kennedy had always had a quiet passion about him, a tense, deep energy like a sound too low for the human ear, or a clenched spring that had never been released. He spotted Cormoran and approached.

“I came as fast as I could,” he said, “I was at the station in Truro. What happened?”

“It’s Sunny Morris,” Cormoran said, “It looks like he’s been stabbed.”

“How is he?”

“He’s alive,” Cormoran said, “There was a lot of blood, but it didn’t seem too bad. Deep, but narrow and clean.”

“Did anybody see it happen?” 

“Gemma Mae. She’s in shock.”

“That girl,” Kennedy growled under his breath. He strode past Cormoran to the Apollo.

Gemma shrank back at the sight of him, and Robin put an arm around the girl’s shoulders again.

“It’s okay,” Robin said, “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“Gemma,” Kennedy said in greeting. Gemma looked up at him tremulously, and he softened, getting down to her level. “Hey,” he said, “It’s okay. You did the right thing calling for help. You did just right. Now how old are you? Sixteen?”

“Fifteen.”

“Alright. And is there anybody I can call to come and get you? A parent, or a guardian?”

Gemma shrank back, like somehow this was the scariest thing he could ask.

“I… I don’t…”

“You’re not in any trouble,” Kennedy said, “I’ll make sure your parents know that.”

“They’re on vacation,” she said, “They’re on vacation in Australia. They can’t come and get me.”

“Alright, well, do you have an emergency contact? Any family in the area?”

“I’m her emergency contact,” Robin said, “I’ll make sure she’s alright.” Cormoran shot Robin a confused look over Kennedy’s shoulder. She met his eye and nodded.  _ Trust me on this. _

“And your name?” Kennedy asked Robin.

“Robin Ellacott. I’m Cormoran’s partner.”

“Right. You’re P.I.s, aren’t you.” 

“Yes,” Robin said.

“Good.” Kennedy turned back to Gemma. “Now, Gemma, why don’t you tell me exactly what happened tonight.”

Gemma took a shuddering breath.

“Sunny and I were below deck. Then-”

“And what were you doing on his boat to begin with?”

“We were just hanging out,” Gemma said. Kennedy scowled slightly, but didn’t push it. 

“Alright. And what time did you get to the boat?”

“Around nine.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“Sunny thought he heard somebody outside. So he went out onto the pier to look.”

“And what time was this?”

“Maybe ten thirty? I don’t really know. When I heard him shout, I called to see if he was alright. He didn’t answer, so I went out to see. I saw him there.”

“And what exactly did you see?”

Her voice went soft and low, her eyes blank.

“I saw Sunny lying on the pier. He was crouched down. He was bleeding.”

“Did you see anybody else?” 

Gemma’s face turned ashen, and her eyes widened.

“No!”

Cormoran and Robin shared a look.

“No,” Gemma repeated, “No? Maybe? I think I saw somebody wearing all black. Like, a morph suit? Then I heard them running away, but I didn’t look. I was too busy looking after Sunny.”

“What did you do to look after him?” Kennedy asked.

“I screamed for help, then carried him to the boat and laid him on the sofa. I stayed screaming the whole time, I think. I don’t remember.”

“You carried him by yourself?” 

“He was still conscious then. He could walk a bit. He lost consciousness when I laid him down.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and she covered her mouth with her hand. “I looked at the wound. It was bleeding really bad, so I used my dress to cover it. Then these guys came to help.” She gestured to Cormoran and Robin.

“We were on the Joan of Arc, the next boat over,” Cormoran explained.

“Can you tell me in your own words what happened?” Kennedy asked.

“We were sitting and talking,” Cormoran said, “Then we heard the screaming. We both started running, but Robin got there first.” Adam’s eyes dropped to Cormoran’s leg, then turned to Robin.

“I saw Gemma holding her dress to staunch the flow of blood,” Robin said, “I called 999. Then Cormoran arrived, and cleaned the wound.”

“I used contact lens solution,” Cormoran said. Kennedy nodded.

“I’m going to have to bring Gemma down to the station,” Kennedy said. He turned to Gemma. “You’re not under arrest, but you’ve got a lot of evidence on you, and we need to do some tests.”

Gemma clutched Robin’s arm.

“Can you come with me?” she asked. 

“Absolutely,” Robin said, “I’ll be there the whole time."

Robin had been tested for evidence three times in her life. Three times, she had gone to the station to be searched. Three times, she had been reduced to nothing more than an extension of a crime scene.

_ Alright, we’re going to take some photos, to document the blood spatter here. _

Three times. The first had been after she was raped, that had been the worst. 

_ Were you hurt? Did anybody attack you? _

The second time had been after Raphael had held her at gunpoint. That had been alright. She had been able to keep her clothing on at that one.

_ Take off your clothes, put them in this bag. You can put on these scrubs. _

The third time had been after she was attacked at the club. She had undressed then, so that they could document her injuries. But Vanessa had been there, and had helped her through it. Just like she was here now, holding Gemma’s hand.

_ We’ll start with your fingernails. We need to confirm that there was nobody else there at the scene. No blood besides the victim’s. _

“Is this really necessary?” Robin asked, although she knew that it was. Gemma was part of the crime scene. Still, the girl needed to know that somebody was standing up for her.

“This is just standard procedure for first responders,” the officer said, “Just to make sure that everything is as it seems.”

Then it was over, and they found Cormoran snoring in the station lobby. Robin held Gemma’s hand as the three of them walked back to the car. Robin’s watch glowed 1:08. 

“You can drop me off at my car,” Gemma said, “It’s fine.”

“You can’t sleep in a car tonight,” Robin said.

“Really, it’s okay. I’ve been living there for ages now.”

“You can stay with my aunt and uncle,” Cormoran said, “Or we’ll get you a hotel room.”

Gemma hugged herself, clutching her elbows.

“Honestly, I just need to be someplace familiar tonight, okay?” she said.

Cormoran and Robin exchanged a glance.

“Okay,” Robin said. She took out a business card and wrote her cell phone number on the back. “This is my personal number. Call me anytime you need anything. It doesn’t matter how late. Okay?” 

Gemma took the card.

“Okay.”

“I’m parked down by the docks.”

Gemma stared out of the car window in silence, the orange of the street lights reflecting off her eyes. Finally she said “Turn left here. I’m in the old VW bus on the right.”

Robin pulled to a stop.

“You’re sure you’ll be alright?” Robin asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

They got in a little after 1:30. Joan and Ted had already gone to bed, so Cormoran and Robin didn’t have to make a show of going into their separate rooms. They fell into bed, exhausted. Cormoran wrapped his arms around Robin and pulled her close. He kissed her neck.

“We’re terrible at taking vacations,” he said. Robin grinned.

“The worst.”


	11. Hired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't post anything yesterday, it was my cousin's wedding. Back on track today.

Cormoran and Robin slept in the next morning, and everybody was still at church when they got up. Joan had left a plate of scones for them on the kitchen table, and they sat and ate in silence. 

“So,” Robin said, finally, “Last night.”

“Last night. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. Feeling a bit cursed, honestly, but…” She shrugged.

“I know. We can’t even take a vacation.”

“Mysteries just follow us, I guess. We’re like magnets.”

Cormoran poured cream on his scone, deep in thought. 

“I hope Theodore is okay. Gemma is his girlfriend after all.”

“Yeah. And Sunny. God, we’d have heard if he’d died, wouldn’t we?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think we would.”

They lapsed back into silence. Robin tore her scone up into little pieces, which she rolled into balls and ate mindlessly. Cormoran watched her and knew that she was working the night’s events over in her head. He could practically hear her thoughts whirring. He smiled.

“What?” Robin asked, catching him staring.

“Nothing. Nothing. Just. Your mind.”

“My what?”

“I love the way you think.”

Robin smiled, weak but genuine. 

There was a knock on the door and they both sprang into action.

“I’ll get it,” Robin said, “You stay seated.”

Robin estimated the man at the door to be in his mid-forties or early fifties. He was tall and built like a supermodel, with a greying crewcut and a tan that Robin assumed was even all over his body. She was suddenly very aware that she was still in her pajamas, with mascara smeared down her face.

“Hello,” Robin said. 

“Hi.” The man held out his hand and Robin shook it. He had a perfect, well-practiced handshake. “I’m Spencer Morris. Sampson’s father.” He spoke in a deep gravelly voice, and Robin couldn’t help but think of Batman. She must have looked utterly bewhildered, because spencer Morris smiled and said, “Sunny. His name is Sampson but he goes by sunny.”

“Oh! Of course! Please come in.” She ushered him down the hall and into the kitchen. “How is Sunny? Is he alright?”

“He’s stable. He’s sleeping now.”

“Thank God. Cormoran, this is Spencer Morris. He’s Sunny’s dad.” She turned back to Spencer. “Would you like some coffee? A scone?”

“Coffee, thanks. I’ve been up all night.” He sank into one of the kitchen chairs and ran a hand over his eyes.

“How’s Sunny doing?” Cormoran asked.

“The knife nicked a kidney, but otherwise didn’t do too much damage. They’re expecting a full recovery. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”

“That’s what they say,” Cormoran said. He’d always hated that phrase. What hadn’t killed him had left him with PTSD and chronic pain, but he knew it wasn’t the right time to mention that. 

“I’d like to thank you two. You saved my son’s life. I can never…” Spencer’s voice cracked and he looked at the ceiling. “Never thank you enough.”

“Of course,” Cormoran said. 

“We did what we could,” Robin said, handing Spencer a mug of coffee and sitting down beside him.

“I’ve heard about you in the papers,” Spencer said. He turned to Cormoran. “You were former SIB, correct?” 

“Correct.”

“I’m former SIS.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Spencer smiled.

“I came to the countryside to stay anonymous. Probably would have done better at that in London.”

Cormoran thought Spencer would have an easier time staying anonymous if he didn’t tell relative strangers that he was former SIS. It seemed like odd behavior from a secret agent, even a retired one. 

“No secrets in St. Mawes, that’s for sure,” Cormoran agreed.

Spencer leaned forward on his elbows. 

“Mister Strike, I’d like to hire you.”

Spencer didn’t address Robin in this matter. Cormoran shot her an apologetic look, and she responded with a wink behind Spencer’s back. 

“May I ask why you don’t trust the police to do the right job?” she said, leaning forward to mimic his posture. Spencer looked slightly surprised at her involvement, but covered it up well. 

“The last crime we had in St. Mawes was a duck that wouldn’t stop biting people. I trust Adam Kennedy, but a stabbing is out of his area of experience.”

“You’re SIS,” Cormoran said, “Clearly you have investigative experience.”

“I’m too close,” Spencer said, “He’s my son. I’m prejudiced. Of course I would be willing to pay for a hotel for as long as it took. And any other expenses you might need.”

Cormoran turned to Robin.

“We don’t know how long an investigation would take,” he said, “We were only planning on staying ten days.”

“We could extend it,” Robin countered, “It’s work.”

Cormoran loved the idea. He dreaded going back to London, sitting around waiting for his arm to heal while Robin did all the work. He had loved St Mawes so far. But that was a lot to ask of Robin.

“You wouldn’t have to stay,” he said under his breath, “I could handle it here if you wanted…”

“Like Hell. Leave the beach paradise and the first interesting case we’ve had in ages? Barclay and hutchins have been holding down the fort so far. We could get a hotel.”

“I’ll make sure that you stay in the lap of luxury,” Spencer Morris insisted.

“I’m getting my splint and wrist checked in two weeks,” Cormoran said, “If we don’t finish by then I’ll go up and come back.” He turned to Spencer. “We’ll take your case.”

After Spencer Morris left, they went down to the docks to examine the crime scene. Cormoran wasn’t sure how well the local police would take their interference, so they pretended to be doing nothing more than relaxing on the Joan of Arc. Cormoran laid a tablecloth on the cabin roof and they had pita bread with hummus and tomatoes. Just two normal people eating a picnic on their boat.

“You know how people used to bring picnics to hangings?” Robin said, looking at the crime scene tape about ten feet down the pier. “That’s how I feel now. Bring a picnic to the crime scene, make a day of it.”

“Thankfully nobody has died yet.”

Robin hummed in agreement.

“Anybody could have access to the boat, couldn’t they,” Robin said, “All we had to do was vault over the ‘do not enter’ sign. It’s not like it’s secure.”

“This is St Mawes, nothing is secured. My uncle leaves the key in the ignition when he buys groceries.”

“Still. No vandalism? No dumb kids breaking in to raid the onboard liquor cabinet?”

Cormoran shrugged. 

“We have a population of 641, and it gets smaller every year. Any kid dumb enough to do something like that would get caught in a minute.”

“No security cameras I assume.”

“Not here. There are some in town. Kennedy can get those, see if there’s .”

Robin looked both ways, then hopped off the boat and walked right up to the crime scene tape. Cormoran grinned. She never ceased to amaze him. 

“Come on,” she said. 

“If anyone comes by I’m taking us both off the side,” he said, then climbed off the boat and joined her.

A large bloodstain marked the place where Sunny had been stabbed, several feet down the dock. Robin pointed to where the path of blood drops angled towards the boat. “This all matches up with Gemma’s story. You can see where the drops turn to drag marks where he started to lose consciousness.”

“No sign of a weapon. If it was me I’d have thrown it out to sea. It could be miles away by now. Probably a simple rigging knife, anyways, which most people have here.”

“Whoever stabbed him couldn’t have escaped on foot,” Robin said, “They would have gone right past us.”

“A motor boat would have been noisy. We’d have heard it.”

“Could somebody have swum it?” 

Cormoran pointed to a spot on the edge of the pier. 

“Look over here. The wood is damaged.” Robin looked. Sure enough, there was a splintered section.

“What would cause that?”

“My guess would be a boat. A kayak, or a canoe. Somebody pushed off here with an oar.”

“Risky.”

“I know. Whoever did this was cocky. Or very stupid.”

Robin drummed her fingers against her cheek, with what Cormoran had started affectionately calling her “psychologist face”. Finally she spoke.

“Sounds teenaged,” she said.


	12. Truro Station

They announced their plan to stay longer the next day, over brunch with Joan, Ted, and the Herberts. Joan looked like Christmas had come early.

“You’re always welcome to stay here, it’s no trouble,” she said.

“The hotel is fine, really,” Cormoran said. He glanced at Robin, hoping she’d back him up. Much as he loved his aunt and uncle, he was getting desperate for his own space. 

“We’ll be coming in and out at all hours when we’re on the job,” Robin said, “We wouldn’t want to wake you.” 

Cormoran nudged her with his knee in way of thanks. 

“Alright. But you’re always welcome here. Anytime you want a free home cooked meal, stop by.”

“You know we’ll take you up on that,” Cormoran said.

“It’s all a terrible business,” Ted said, “I’m sorry it’s spoiled your vacation.”

“Not at all,” Robin said, “There will be other vacations. To be honest, work has been hopelessly dull since the Baartman case. I’ve been wanting to take on something more interesting.”

Before Joan could answer, the screen door slammed open and Theodore came in, red-faced and out of breath. 

“Uncle Cormoran! Uncle Cormoran! You have to help me!” Theodore leaned against the kitchen counter, panting. Cormoran felt his chest clench in anxiety. 

“What happened?”

“It’s Gemma. She’s…” Theodore panted for breath. “She’s been arrested. For stabbing Sunny.”

Cormoran, Robin, and Ilsa all stood up at the same time. 

“When was this?” Ilsa asked. 

“This morning.”

“She’s at the jail now?”

“Yeah.”

Ilsa turned to Joan.

“I’m sorry,” she started. Joan waved her away. 

“Go. Go! Take care of that girl.”

The police station was in Truro, about half an hour away. Truro was much larger than St. Mawes, with all of the administrative buildings that St. Mawes couldn’t hold: the transport police, the museum, the senior citizen facility. In spite of the size, Truro reminded Robin a bit of Masham, with rustic stone buildings and winding streets. She felt a sudden urge to call her mother.

The receptionist at the police station bore a remarkable resemblance to Blue Hawaii Elvis, with an unnaturally black pompadour and pronounced paunch. He glowered at them from beneath bushy grey eyebrows that drastically mismatched his hair.

“How can I help you today?” he said in a monotone voice.

“My name is Doctor Herbert,” Ilsa said, “I’m Gemma Mae's lawyer. She was arrested this morning.”

The receptionist looked her up and down, clearly unimpressed. Ilsa hadn't had time to change into her legal suit, and she tugged at her stained hoodie nervously.

“Hm.” He turned to Cormoran and Robin. “And these two are?”

“I’m Cormoran Strike,” Cormoran said, “And this is Robin Ellacott. We’re private investigators.”

“Hm,” the man said again, “You three can take a seat.”

“I really must speak with-” Ilsa began.

“ _ Take a seat _ , Miss Herbert,” the man said, with a condescension that could halt an army. Ilsa didn’t flinch, and didn’t move. “I will call Officer Kennedy to speak to you. _ After you take a seat. _ ”

Ilsa held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned and sat, her jaw clenched.

The receptionist made a show of slowly gathering a pile of papers and stacking them carefully, then searching for a key before standing, stretching languidly, and putting the papers in the filing cabinet. Finally, after the whole display, he picked up the phone and dialed.

“Officer Kennedy,” he whined, “There’s a woman here claiming to be the Mae girl’s lawyer. Do you want to see her?” He pursed his lips bitterly at the response. “Alright.” He hung up. “He’ll see you shortly.”

Adam came in five minutes later.

“Ilsa,” he said with a tone of surprise, “How good to see you. You’re planning on defending Gemma Mae?”

“If she wants me. She should know I’m here, at least.”

“Of course, of course. I’ll bring you to her. We haven’t been able to contact her parents yet, so it’s good to have another adult present.” He turned to Cormoran and Robin. “Cormoran,” he said, “I’d like to speak to you as well. Let me show Ilsa to her client, and then we can speak in my office.”

Cormoran was surprised. He didn’t think that Adam would remember him. He shrugged at Robin, who shrugged back.

“I’ll meet you here,” she said.

Adam’s office was spartan, his desk polished and clear, with only a photograph of Hugo as decoration.

“Adam. It’s good to see you again.”

“You too. I wish it was under better circumstances.” Adam sat down behind his desk. “I’ve been hearing a lot about you. You’ve been doing some crime fighting yourself.”

“If you count infidelity as a crime.”

Adam chuckled. 

“If I ran the world, yes. But don’t be modest. When you caught the Shacklewell Ripper it was all anybody talked about. And last year, with the Baartman? The town held a fundraiser banquet to help those women.”

“I did hear about that fundraiser. You raised ten thousand pounds, didn’t you? That was incredibly encouraging.” 

“You’re a bit of a local celebrity in St. Mawes.”

“Clearly you are as well," Cormoran said, "I was glad to see that you’d become a police officer.”

“Those old prefect days paid off,” Adam said, grinning. Cormoran laughed.

“How many times did you bust me and Dave for smoking behind the gym? But you were always fair.”

“I’m glad you think so. I tried not to treat you any differently, just because you were my friend.”

“You used to say that rules are rules. When I was in the SIB I would think about that a lot.  _ Rules are rules. _ ””

“I still say that. I’m glad I made a positive impact, rather than a negative one.”

Cormoran relaxed in his chair. 

“I heard you have a son?” he asked. 

“I do. Hugo. He’s fifteen now.” Adam turned a framed photograph on his desk for Cormoran to see. It was of Adam and Hugo on a boat. Adam was not a small man, but Hugo still towered over him.

“He’s my nephew’s age,” Cormoran said.

“I know. Theodore, right?”

“Yes.” Cormoran leaned forward. “Speaking of Theodore, can we talk about the arrest of his girlfriend?”

Adam straightened and put on a more professional demeanor, but his tone stayed light and friendly.

“Of course. What do you want to know?”

“Are you sure she’s guilty?”

“Yes!” Adam said it vehemently, like he was trying to convince himself. He took a deep breath. “Yes. Sorry. That came out a little strong.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Sunny told us.”

“Really!”

“Yes. He woke up this morning. It was one of the first things he said.”

“And you’re sure he was telling the truth? Not that he would lie, but sometimes if you’re on a lot of pain killers, your mind can get muddled.”

“His father doesn’t believe in pain killers. He wasn’t given any. The boy’s mind is clear.”

“Wait. Back up." Cormoran shook his head, as if he'd misheard. "He’s not on any pain medication?”

“No. His father insisted.”

“But he was just stabbed.”

“I know. I didn’t agree with it. But there was nothing we could do.” Adam kneaded his forehead and Cormoran realized just how exhausted the man looked. “Has Ilsa Herbert hired you to investigate the young lady’s defense?”

“No. But Spencer Morris hired us to investigate the crime.”

“Us?”

“My partner Robin and I.”

“Ah. Yes. Your girlfriend. Good. I’m glad that you’re working on this case, actually. I hope that we can work together.”

“Rare to hear that from a police officer,” Cormoran said.

Adam gave a small smile. 

“I’ve never had to deal with a violent crime before. The last crime we had here was a swan that kept biting people.”

Cormoran grinned.

“I heard. Spencer Morris told me.”

“It was very funny, actually. Although then we learned that the swan had lead poisoning from contaminated water.”

“That’s less funny.”

“Indeed. But we handled it. Replaced the pipes, and it was done.” Adam steepled his fingertips. “I doubt that this will be so simple.”

“I doubt it.”

Adam stood and held out his hand.

“Here’s to a beautiful partnership,” he said.

Ilsa met them in the waiting room an hour later.

“How’s Gemma?” Robin asked.

“She’s not cooperating,” Ilsa said, “She just keeps insisting that Sunny loves her, and that she would never hurt him. She won’t even say what they were doing on that boat. I asked if they had sex and she said no. I asked if he tried to force her and she said no. I asked her if she saw who stabbed him and she said no. No, no, no. Nothing.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyways. What did Adam want with you?” 

“He wants a partnership. Sharing all information.”

“And did you agree to it?” Ilsa asked.

“Of course.”

“And will you actually do it?” Robin asked, “Share all the information?” 

Cormoran winked at her.

“We’ll see.”

“We should speak to Sunny first, I think,” Robin said, “I doubt that Adam will let us talk to Gemma yet.”

“I’d like to talk to Theodore before we see Sunny,” Cormoran said, “He might have some insights on how we can best direct the questioning.”

“Good plan.”


	13. The Gardening Society

Theodore was waiting for Cormoran and Robin on Joan and Ted’s front porch, and he ran down to meet them as they got out of the car.

“What happened?” he demanded, “Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” Cormoran said, hoping that he was right, “Ilsa is an excellent lawyer.”

“She didn’t do it,” Theodore insisted, immediately.

“How do you know?” Robin asked.

“She’s my girlfriend. I know.”

Cormoran made his way to the front porch and sat down heavily on a deck chair. He patted the chair next to him, and Theodore sat. Robin leaned against the railing.

“So Theodore,” Cormoran said, “What can you tell me about Sunny?”

Theodore made a face. Cormoran laughed.

“That bad, huh?” Cormoran asked. 

“He’s okay. Just a douchey bro. He hangs out with girls more than guys. I think the other guys see him as kind of a poser.”

“Do you think he’s a poser?”

“He has pictures of Hugh Heffner in his locker.”

Robin snorted.

“Sounds like a class act.”

“His dad was Mi6 apparently. Super scary. Sunny rebels by doing the ballroom dancing club and being into theater. He’s not gay, though.”

Cormoran caught Robin’s eye. He thought that having a photo of Hugh Heffner in your locker could be the dictionary definition of overcompensating, but he held his tongue. 

“He’s not,” Theodore insisted, reading Cormoran’s expression, “He’s part of the Gardening Society.”

“And that makes him straight?” Cormoran said, one eyebrow raised. 

“The gardening society isn’t what you think it is,” Theodore said, “They don’t garden, they… pluck flowers.”

Robin gave a little “Ah!” of disgust. Cormoran still didn’t understand. 

“Flower arranging?” Cormoran asked, confused. Theodore blushed scarlet.

“Girls’ flowers. They pluck girls’ flowers”

It took Cormoran a moment, then his eyes went wide.

“Oh. OH. Jesus.”

“They’re the worst. They each put in fifty pounds to join the club, and whoever... deflowers… enough girls, wins all the money.”

“How many girls are even in that school?” Robin asked, “That must be a competitive sport.”

“It is. They keep a list. It’s in the library. It goes all the way back to  _ 1992 _ .” He made it sound like 1992 was as old as time, and Cormoran tried not to smirk.

“Explains why I never heard of it,” Cormoran said, “That was after my time.”

“Most people don’t know about it,” Theodore said, “I only know because I found their list in the library. It wasn’t hidden that well. It was in a book called  _ Istory Lannvowsedh _ .”

“I’m sorry?”

“Am I the only person in this goddamn town who has an interest in the Cornish language?” Theodore cried. Cormoran grinned. 

“You are so much like Uncle Ted,” he said, “Lucy named you well.”

“Anyways, I opened up the book and there it was, everybody’s names, going back twenty-four years.”

“Twenty-four years. God, I am old.”

“Theodore, this talk has been invaluable,” Robin said, “Thank you for being so candid with us.” She turned to Cormoran. “I think we should take a trip to the library.”

The Cornish section of the library consisted of a few ancient looking tomes gathering dust in the farthest corner of the room. 

“My uncle loves this stuff,” Cormoran said, “Dying languages and all. He obsesses.” He ran his finger along the worn-out spines before pulling a book out.

“ _ Istory Lannvowsedh _ ,” he said, “Here it is.”

The book was ancient, the binding cracked and worn.

“When did Cornish die out? That must have been ages ago,” Robin said.

“1750s or so,” Cormoran said, “It’s recently made a small comeback. But I don’t know anybody besides my uncle who has any interest.”

Cormoran opened the book. There on the inside of the cover was written, “The Falmouth Gardening Society”. He read aloud:

_ “Chris Chatley plucked the flowers of- Katie Jennings, Heidi Austen, Jordana Kay.” _

“God, how dehumanizing,” Robin said, peering over Cormoran’s shoulder.

_ “Mike Channel plucked the flowers of- Erin Reece, Louisa Reece.” _

_ “ _ Keeping it in the family. Nice.”

“ _ Luke Freedman plucked the flowers of-“  _ The color drained out of his face. He shut the book.

“Well,” he said, “Now we know. Don’t see the relevance, really. We can just…”

“You saw a name you recognized, didn’t you.”

“Yup.”

“It was your sister, wasn’t it.”

“Yup.”

Robin laughed and tugged the book out of his hands.

“Alright, that’s something to discuss later,” Robin said, “For now, let’s skip ahead to the end. Maybe we’ll find Sunny’s name.”

Cormoran nodded, in a daze. 

The names covered the blank pages in the front, the title page, and the dedication. Then they continued at the end of each chapter, and the blank pages in the back. 

“Here it is, 2016._ Ryan Boyce plucked the flowers of Julia Finnic, Gretchen spade. Matthew Van Delman plucked Becca Delaney. Sunny Morris plucked the flowers of Lisa Webb,_ _Grace Reynard._”

“No Gemma Mae.”

“No. Although if he was stabbed on their first meeting, they might not have had time. But Grace Reynard is another name to place on our list.”


	14. Dinner at Lucy's

Cormoran found Lucy in the kitchen of her summer house, stirring a pot of chili.

“Hey Luce. You need a hand in here?”

“The carrots need chopping, thanks.”

Cormoran sat and started chopping the carrots. 

“Hey Lucy?”

“Mm?”

“Who was Luke Freedman?”

Lucy paused, trying to place the name, then grinned. 

“Luke? God, I forgot all about him. He was a classmate. Why?”

“Were you guys… together?”

Lucy blushed. 

“Depends on what you mean by together. God, I wonder what he’s up to nowadays.”

“Did he hurt you? Coerce you?”

“What? No! Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Did he… did he take your… or I mean… did he… deflower... you?”

Lucy let out a yelp of laughter so loud it made Cormoran jump. 

“ _ Deflower?”  _ She threw her head back and giggled herself breathless. Finally she composed herself, mopping at her eyes. “Are you asking if he took my virginity?”

“Erm. Yes.”

“No. He did not.”

Cormoran breathed a sigh of relief.  _ He had lied. Lied to his friends to get the money. _

“I had lost my virginity ages earlier.”

“Jesus Christ, Lucy!”

“Don’t be such a bloody hypocrite. I was sixteen when I lost my virginity, and it was with Brendan Pederson. He was a good guy.”

“He was. I liked him. But- wait- no!”

Lucy cackled. 

“You really thought I waited till marriage? Of course not!”

“But the purity ring!”

“I took it off at sixteen. You were away at school, you didn’t notice.” She tasted the chili and added pepper. “After Brendan dumped me, I was pretty miserable. Then I went to this party, and Luke was there, and I was lonely, so I went home with him. We never spoke of it again.”

Cormoran opened his mouth to tell her, then shut it. Why? What could she possibly gain from knowing? 

“Why are you asking about it?” Lucy asked, “What did you hear?”

“Nothing. It’s not important.”

Lucy leveled her gaze at him in a perfect imitation of Aunt Joan’s stare. 

“What did you hear, Cormoran?”

“That he took your... virginity... in some sort of contest. They were betting on who could… deflower… the most girls.”

Cormoran watched as this sank in, and a flicker of disappointment flashed almost imperceptibly behind Lucy’s eyes. Then it was gone. She sighed.

“The things boys think of when they’ve got nothing better to do,” she said, “I’m surprised they believed I was a virgin. Brendan and I had dated for two years.”

“I’m sorry,” Cormoran said.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. It was a one night stand, and not a particularly memorable one, either.” She took the chopped carrots from Cormoran and tossed them into the chili. “Uncle Ted should be pulling into the docks about now. Why don’t you go down to the waterfront and see if he needs a hand?”

Cormoran saw this for the dismissal it was, and left the house.

Ted was, indeed, pulling the Joan of Arc into the docks as Cormoran arrived. Cormoran waved to his uncle, who held up the spring line in greeting.

“Tie this for me, would you?” Ted asked. Cormoran nodded, and Ted tossed the line to him. It had been a long time since Cormoran had gone sailing, but he still remembered how to secure a mooring, even with his right arm in a sling. 

“How was the catch?”

“Not bad, not bad.” That had been Ted’s answer for as long as Cormoran could remember. It didn’t matter if the man had caught five fish or five hundred; as long as he caught something, the answer would always be the same. 

“That’s what you always say.”

“Got a warp and a burn. Lots of folk out there fishing today. Grabbing them while they can. Storm coming Wednesday, so all the fish will be moving deeper.”

Cormoran grunted and helped Ted finish securing the lines.

“Hey Uncle Ted?”

“Mm.”

“What do you think about Spencer Morris?” 

Ted turned on the hose to wash down the deck. He was quiet for so long that Cormoran started to think he hadn’t heard. 

“Can’t say I like the man,” Ted said finally.

Cormoran nodded in agreement.

“He’s denying his son painkillers,” Cormoran said. Ted harrumphed.

“Yes, well. Wish I was surprised. He’s said in the past that pain builds character.” He shook his head and turned off the hose. “Help me with the cooler, would you?” Cormoran grabbed one end of the cooler filled with fish and helped Ted lug it to the car. It was an easy enough walk from the house to the docks, but the fishing gear was cumbersome. 

“I knew members of Mi6 when I served,” Ted went on, “Back during the Cold War, when we were all waiting for the nuclear apocalypse. Some agents I liked, some I didn’t, but they were all better than him. They didn’t display their job title everywhere they went. They weren’t there to show off, they were there to keep things quiet.”

“He certainly doesn’t seem to understand the idea of professional discretion. Do you think Spencer could be lying about his job?” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Ted said, “But he’s a poser. I will say that.” 

They put the cooler into the back of Ted’s Subaru Outback and climbed into the front. The car was nearly twenty years old, and jounced and creaked arthritically up the pitted roads. Ted was a quiet man, which was part of why he and Cormoran had always got along so well. They were easy in each other’s silence. But when Ted parked the truck in the driveway, he made no move to get out. Instead he cleared his throat and said,

“I saw Robin the other morning.”

“Yeah. She told me.” 

Ted opened his mouth, then shut it, searching for words.

“She’s... tall,” he said, finally. Cormoran barked out a laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, she is.”

“A proper Cormelian, she is.”

Cormoran turned this over in his mind. Cormelian, the wife of Cormoran the Giant. He nodded.

“In some ways.” 

Ted turned and looked Cormoran straight in the eye.

“Treat her right,” he said. Cormoran didn’t break eye-contact.

“That’s my plan.”

They had Lucy’s chili for dinner. Lucy was trying to limit Greg’s sodium intake, and had not yet figured out how to make up for the lack of flavour. 

“We’re having Alice christened on Sunday,” Ilsa said, “As her godfather, you’re supposed to be there, Cormoran, but we completely understand if you don’t feel comfortable.”

Cormoran glanced around the room. He hadn’t been to a church in years.

“Can you come, Uncle Corm?” Jack asked, “Can you? Can you?”

“Do I have to do anything?” Cormoran asked.

“No,” Ilsa said, “Well, he’ll ask you a few questions, and you just always answer ‘we will’. You’ll have a prompt card. Just show up.”

“You can stand in the front with me,” Jack said, “Junior and I are altar servers. I know all about church. I’ll explain all the parts. It can be a little confusing, knowing when to stand up and sit down and stuff.”

“That would be very helpful, thanks,” Cormoran said. Jack nodded and immediately went back to flicking peas at his younger brother. Cormoran turned to Lucy.

“Jack never struck me as the religious type,” he murmured, so that Jack couldn’t hear, “Isn’t he a bit… violent for it?”

“Ah, love, have you ever picked up a history book in your life?” Lucy asked.

“Fair point.”

“He goes because all his friends go. Don’t you remember how left out we always felt on Sunday mornings in St Mawes?”

Cormoran did remember. His mother had been a militant atheist, and had forbade them from any church activity whatsoever. When Cormoran and Lucy had visited St Mawes without their mother, Joan would take them to church with a wink and a whisper of “This is our secret, mind you.” But that was rare enough that it never became a habit. 

Cormoran had never taken to religion the way Lucy had. After moving to St Mawes permanently, she had gone through a phase of religious zealotry. Cormoran considered it to be her form of teenage rebellion. The cross necklace and purity ring, prairie skirts, a bible tucked under one arm. She had since calmed down a bit. She still attended church every Sunday, but she had stopped trying to convert Cormoran and rarely spoke about her faith unprompted. 

“I’ll be there,” Cormoran said.

***

“So,” Robin said, stepping out of the shower, “Church on Sunday.”

Cormoran grinned. They had left Lucy's place early and spent a very pleasant evening enjoying the privacy of their hotel room.

“Am I that unholy?” he asked. 

“Please, what you do to me is nothing short of the divine. No, it just seems… Out of your regular routine.”

“Mm. Well, first off, I would do anything for Alice. I’d become the Pope himself for that kid.”

“Hopefully it will never come to that. I don’t think I’d be very good at celibacy.”

“But I have an ulterior motive as well. If church here is the same as it was when I was a child, the whole town will show up. I think it would be the perfect opportunity to observe everyone. Joan can tell us if anyone is acting especially strange or if there’s a noticeable absence.”


	15. Meet the Morrises

The St. Mawes Hospital was a squat homey building made of sandy brick and surrounded by scrubby green trees. The nurse at the front desk looked to be in her early sixties, but with the skin of a tanning-bed addict and hot pink lipstick well outside the lines. Her blonde hair was curled into a brassy bullet around her shoulders, and she was wearing loud leopard-print scrubs.

“Is that little Cormy Strike?” she said, squinting up at him. Her voice was high and nasal.

“Hey Gwenifer,” Cormoran said, “What’s a lovely nurse like you doing at the reception desk?”

“Ahhh Janice, our usual receptionist, is out sick, so I’m filling in.” Gwenifer lowered her voice to a loud stage-whisper. “She had a hysterectomy. Doctor James said she had the biggest uterus he’s ever seen.” She turned to Robin, her voice returning to its normal pitch. “And who is this lovely young lady?”

“Come on, like you don’t already know,” Cormoran said. He put his hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Robin, this is Gwenifer Arscot.”

“I’d heard you got a bird, Cormy,” Gwenifer said, “Nobody told me she was so pretty.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Robin said.

“I was here on the day that Cormy was born,” Gwenifer told Robin, “I remember it like it was yesterday. It was my first day on the job. I knew Leda, of course. Everybody knew Leda. She was a bit of a celebrity back then. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I suppose.” She took off her horn-rimmed glasses and pointed them at Cormoran. “He came here all the time as a kid. Broken nose, broken arm. Sometimes I thought he’d get himself injured on purpose, just cause he was sweet on me!” She shot him a wink.

“Not to stop story-time,” Cormoran said, suddenly red-faced, “But we’re here to see Sampson Morris.” 

The woman tsked.

“Such a sad thing to have happened.” Her inch-long fingernails clattered on the keyboard. “Right-o. He’s on the second floor. Room 207.”

“Thanks.”

  
  


Robin managed to contain herself until they reached the elevator, then she burst out laughing. 

“ _ That’s  _ Gwenifer Arscot?”

“Yeh.”

“ _ The _ Gwenifer Arscot. The one you and Dave are always going on about.”

“The very same.” The elevator came to a stop.

“She must be sixty years old!”

“Sixty-two, if I remember correctly. She was something of a… What’s the word? Ends in ‘elf’.”

“Milf?”

“That’s the one! She was a milf when we were kids. All the boys loved her. She was there for half of our births, but somehow we all thought we had a chance with her.”

“Ridiculous.”

They paused outside of room 207, where Spencer Morris’s gravely voice could be heard lecturing a nurse.

“You talk to Sunny,” Cormoran said, “I want to get a feel for his dad.”

Robin nodded and they ducked into the hospital room. 

Sunny was lying propped up in the hospital bed, flanked by his father and a woman Robin assumed was his mother. Sunny was the only person Robin had ever seen who could make a hospital gown look stylish. He was astoundingly handsome, and aptly named with a strong jaw offset by messy golden curls. His looks were only hampered by the look of deep mortification on his face as his father laid into a frightened-looking nurse.

“My son should be your top priority!” Spencer Morris roared, “Do you know who I am? Do you know what I sacrificed to this country?”

Cormoran cleared his throat and everyone turned to look at him and Robin.

“Spencer,” Cormoran said, “Robin here needs to speak to Sunny, and I was wondering if I might have a word with you and your wife.”

“Why?” Spencer asked, “You clearly have your killer.”

“We just want to make sure that we’ve dotted every i and crossed every t,” Cormoran said. Spencer looked like he was going to argue, but his wife placed a calming hand on his shoulder. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Fine. Yeah. Fine. As long as Robin stays with Sunny. I don’t want him to be left alone.”

“I won’t leave his side until you come back,” Robin promised.

“Alright then,” Spencer said, “We were just going to get coffee," he told Cormoran, "You’re welcome to join us.” He gestured to the woman beside him. “This is my wife, Debora.”

Everything about Debora was thin, from her thin blonde hair to her narrow high-heeled shoes. When she shook Cormoran’s hand he could feel every bone in her fingers.

“I heard that you were hired to help on the case,” Debora said, “I am so very grateful.” She smiled wanly, and Cormoran could tell that she had been crying. 

They left Robin with Sunny and made their way down to the coffee shop a floor below, where Cormoran and Spencer both ordered black coffees and Debora ordered a nonfat vanilla latte. They took a seat by the window. 

“I’m curious,” Cormoran asked Spencer, “You worked for the SIS and therefore have experience in investigations yourself. What are your first impressions of this case?”

“Gemma did it.” He said it without hesitation. 

“You’re sure about that.”

“I know the girl. She’s... troubled.”

“Troubled how?”

“Have you seen her?” 

Cormoran wasn’t sure if Spencer Morris was referencing the color of Gemma’s hair or the color of her skin.

“I have,” Cormoran said.

“She’s a communist. I’ve spent my life fighting communists.”

“My husband was a secret agent,” Deborah said proudly, “He worked in the Soviet Union.”

“She’s fifteen,” Cormoran told Deborah, “A lot of fifteen year old have strange political beliefs.”

Debora nodded and stared into her latte, but remained silent. Cormoran wondered what sorts of secret misadventures she had gotten up to in her teen years.

“She came to town about two years before us, so that would make it around 2010,” Spencer said, “Nobody knows anything about her. I’ve never met her parents, which is unheard of here. I don’t even know where she lives.”

“How well does she know your son?”

“She doesn’t. I was surprised as anyone when I found out they were on the boat together.”

“They’ve never met up before?”

“No. Sunny would have told me. He tells me everything.”

Cormoran turned to Debora. 

“Debora? Has he spoken to you at all about Gemma?”

“Not him, but I’ve heard his friends talking about her.”

“What did they say?”

“Boy stuff. You know. First they were calling her a… well, promiscuous. then they were calling her a prude. You know how boys are.”

Cormoran nodded. He had known the type of boys who spoke like that, and he knew what type of men those boys often grew into. 

“So she wasn’t popular.”

“I heard that she accused some children of bullying a few years back,” Deborah said,  “Falsely, of course. I know the children she accused. They’re very fine young people. But she got them in trouble, and they’re still a bit angry about it.”

“I bet.”

“That was right before we moved here. Sunny wasn’t involved.”

“How’s his relationship with Lisa?”

“Lisa is a lovely girl,” Spencer said. 

“Oh yes, she’s very nice,” Debora echoed, “Very sweet. She’s here at the hospital if you’d like to speak to her.”

“I’d like that. There were no issues between them? No jealousy?”

“They seem perfectly happy to me,” Spencer said, “And like I said before, Sunny tells us everything.”


	16. Sunny Morris

While Cormoran was speaking to Sunny’s parents, Robin sat down beside the boy’s bed. He still looked pale and in pain, but there was a clear relief on his face after his father had left.

“Hello, Sunny. My name is Robin Ellacott. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got stabbed.” He maneuvered his bed into an upright position, wincing in pain. “My dad told me you were coming.”

“Did he tell you that I’m a private investigator?”

“Yeah. And that he hired you.”

“He did. My partner and I have unique experience with solving violent crimes.”

“And Officer Kennedy is way out of his depth on this case,” Sunny finished. Robin gave him a small smile.

“Your stabbing was an unheard of event here in St. Mawes.” She looked down at her hands. “I was there. It was terrible.”

Sunny looked confused.

“You were there?” he asked.

“Yes. My partner and I were down the dock a ways, and we heard Gemma screaming. I was the one who called 999.”

Sunny rubbed his face in frustration.

“I don’t remember anything. Really. I heard a noise, I went outside, and the next thing I know I’m in the worst pain I’ve ever felt. That’s all I know. The doctor said that I might have some trauma-based memory loss.”

“You told Officer Kennedy that Gemma stabbed you.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you say that?”

“Because she did.”

“You saw her?”

“She was the only person there.”

“You say that you have memory loss. Did you see her do it?”

“Who else would do it? Do you see everybody at all times? No! You hear hooves, you think horses, not zebras.” He was getting agitated, and Robin could see sweat coming out on his forehead. She wondered how much pain he was in. When she had gotten stabbed they had given her a localized anesthetic.

“It’s okay,” Robin said, her tone soft and soothing, “It’s okay. I know you’re not lying. She might have done it. I’m just asking if you saw her.”

Sunny gave a full-bodied sigh and looked heavenward.

“No,” he said, “I didn’t _see her_ stab me.”

“Okay. That’s fine. You’re doing great. Would you like some water?” Sunny nodded, his eyes shut tight. Robin handed him a glass of water and he took long slow sips. “Sunny, can you tell me what you two were doing on the boat?”

“We were just hanging out.”

“Really.”

“Yes!”

“In your pants?”

“Yes! I didn’t have sex with her. You can do a test, or whatever. I swear it.” He looked towards the door to see in anybody was listening. “We were…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “We were drinking though.”

“We know. They ran blood tests and found alcohol in your bloodstream.”

“Shit.  _ Shit. _ ” His hands clenched on his sheets. “My dad is gonna  _ kill _ me.”

“Pretty sure somebody else has already tried that, and failed. Your dad has bigger things to worry about.” 

Sunny leaned back in bed and groaned. Robin took his hand.

“Sunny? I mean it. Your father is just glad that you’re alive.”

“I guess.”

They were silent for a moment.

“Now, I was at the library the other day,” Robin said, “And I found a book on old Cornish history.”

Sunny looked at her, utterly baffled by the change in topic.

“What?” he asked.

“And I saw that you’re a member of the gardening society.”

He still had the decency to blush, at least. 

“Yes ma’am.”

“And how many flowers have you picked?”

Sunny squinted, testing her.

“I mean, it’s a gardening society,” he said, “Picking flowers is what we do.”

“Don’t mess with me, Sunny,” Robin said, “This game is as old as dirt. They even did an episode of Law and Order about it. Only in that one it was called the ‘Cherry Picker’s Club’. More catchy than the gardening society.”

Sunny stared at her with a look of careful innocence.

“I’m not about to get you in trouble,” Robin said, “Please. I’ve broken rules you’ve never heard of.” She winked. Sunny laughed and covered his face with his hands. 

“Grosssss,” he said, grinning, “But you’re  _ old _ .”

“I saw that your girlfriend was on the list. And somebody named Grace.”

Sunny didn’t answer, but he was no longer smiling.

“Does your girlfriend know what the gardening society is about?” Robin pressed.

Sunny’s eyes turned wide and frightened.

“You can’t tell her. Grace is her best friend.”

“I won’t tell her, don’t worry. I just need to know. Is Lisa the jealous type?”

Sunny considered this. 

“She’s a girl,” he said, “I think girls are naturally more jealous than guys.” Robin tried to refrain from snorting in disbelief. “She's the one who wanted to be exclusive, not me. I have no problem with us seeing other people.”

“Does she get angry a lot?”

“Not really. I’d say a normal amount. She’s not crazy or anything. Not the type to go around _stabbing_ people.”

“And Grace?”

“No way. Grace isn’t into me or anything like that. We hooked up when she was single. She’s dating somebody now.”

Robin made a note to speak to Lisa as soon as she could. She knew that Sunny wouldn’t disclose any more about her. She leaned back. 

“So tell me. Were you plucking flowers last night?” she asked. 

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I got  _ stabbed.” _

“By Gemma.”

“Yeah.”

“What was a lovely flower like Gemma doing on your boat? And don’t give me that hanging out bullshit because we both know that nobody just  _ hangs out _ in their skivvies.”

“Fine. I was hoping to add her to my list.”

“And did you?”

“No. She  _ stabbed me _ .”

“Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened there. I want every detail.” She narrowed her eyes and smiled. “Leave nothing out.”

Sunny rolled his eyes again, but he managed a smile.

“I asked her to come over to the boat,” he said, “And she said yes. She  _ did _ .” He shot Robin a defensive look. “I didn’t force her to do anything. I know people might say that she wasn’t into it, but she was.” 

“I believe you,” Robin said, “I do. Go on.”

“We went to the boat. She’d been really excited about it when I invited her, but then she got, like, kind of nervous.”

“Nervous how?”

“Not like she didn’t want it, but like she wanted everything to be right. Like, she was wearing makeup, which I’d never seen her do before. And a dress.”

“And then?”

“Do I have to go into this?”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about anything. I’m not going to judge you.”

Sunny took a deep breath.

“Well, we were like, you know, snogging or whatever, and it was fine. And she took off her dress, and I took off- well, you were there. I was in my pants. Then I thought I saw somebody outside the window, and I got scared because if my dad found out he’d legit crucify me. He doesn’t like me doing anything like that. He thinks I should just study, like, 24/7. Like he thinks I can’t get good grades and have fun at the same time. I’m not stupid. I’m not going to, like, quit school and become a meth head or whatever just because I smoked pot one time.” He shook his head. “So anyways, I threw on a dressing gown and went outside. I couldn’t see anybody. It was dark. So I walked down the pier. Then I turned around. And…” His face lost its emotionless cool. 

“Then?”

“Then it just…  _ hurt.” _ He blinked away embarrassed tears and stared at the ceiling. When he spoke again his voice was hoarse. “I don’t know anything but that. I don’t remember anything. It was just pain.”

Robin nodded. She handed him a box of tissues and he mopped at his eyes. 

“I was stabbed once, you know,” she said. Sunny looked up at her in surprise, and she showed him the jagged scar on her forearm. “See? This serial killer called the Shacklewell Ripper.” 

“I heard about that. Mister Strike is a local hero here. He’s even on our Wikipedia page.”

“So you know I understand. I understand how scary that was. It took me over a year to stop having panic attacks.”

Sunny sniffed. 

“But they did stop?” he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah they did. I still have rough days, but nothing like before.” She looked at her watch. “Listen, I’m going to let you get some rest. I just have a few more questions.”

“Okay.”

“Has Gemma tried to contact you at all since that night?”

“No. Not a word.”

“And you have your phone?”

“Yes. Officer Kennedy took it at first, and went through it, but then he gave it back.”

“Is that your only phone?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” Robin patted Sunny’s foot. “Thank you, Sunny. You’ve been really great.”


	17. Lisa Webb

Cormoran met Robin in the hallway, and they walked back out to the waiting room. There they found Lisa Webb, sitting hunched over in the waiting room chair, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Robin and Cormoran sat down beside her. 

“Lisa, honey,” Robin said, “Hey. It’s going to be okay.”

Lisa hurriedly wiped her eyes and tried for what was meant to be a reassuring smile. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m being stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Robin said, “This is a very traumatic event. You have every right to be upset.” She held out her hand, and Lisa shook it. “I’m Robin, and this is Cormoran.” 

“You’re the detectives.”

“We are,” Cormoran said, “We were also there the night Sunny was stabbed. We helped him then, and we’re going to help him now.”

“Is it true?” Lisa asked, “He and that girl were both… undressed?”

“When we found them, Gemma was using her dress to stem the blood flow,” Robin said. She laid a hand on Lisa’s shoulder. “Can you tell us a bit about Sunny?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Lisa said, “Is that what you want to know?”

“How long have you guys been dating?”

“Since the school Paris trip in April. But we’ve been unofficial since last summer.” She gave a half-embarrassed titter. 

“Unofficial meaning…” Cormoran prompted. 

“Friends with benefits,” Lisa said.

“Is he a good guy?” Robin asked. Lisa looked horrified by the question. 

“He just got  _ stabbed _ .”

“I know.”

“He’s a good guy. He’s simple. You know? I mean, he’s a teenage boy. They’re not the world’s most complex creatures. But he’s funny, and he actually cares. He’s a romantic. Like me.”

“Is he popular?”

“This isn’t the nineties, with  _ Breakfast Club _ and quarterbacks and cheerleaders and all that bullshit. Nobody’s popular anymore. Nobody cares.”

“God, I was born in the wrong generation,” Cormoran said under his breath. Lisa smiled slightly.

“Were you two exclusive?” Robin asked.

“Yes.” Lisa said it vehemently, like she was expecting to be challenged on the issue. 

“That’s nice,” Robin said, “It’s hard to find a loyal guy nowadays.”

“Well, I found one.” Lisa stuck her chin out and raised an eyebrow.

“What do you know about Gemma Mae?” Cormoran asked.

“She stabbed my boyfriend, didn’t she? Crazy bitch.”

“Do you know her well?”

“Just that she’s freaky. And  _ super _ annoying. Clara says that it’s a cultural thing, and that it’s racist to not like her, but I have black friends, okay, and it is not cultural. That’s just her being a bitch.”

“How so?”

“Well first of all, she thinks that she’s this super good dancer, but she’s not. I don’t know how she got the lead in the school play, because she is not that talented. And she’s not even cute, either. They just wanted some diversity, or whatever. It’s bullshit.”

“Do a lot of boys like her?” Robin asked.

“Boys like anything that’s free. She spreads her legs like butter on toast, of course they’re going to come sniffing around.”

Cormoran and Robin shared a glance at the bitterness in her voice. 

“Can you walk us through your movements the night Sunny got stabbed?” Cormoran asked. 

“Why? You have your killer.”

“Don’t worry, we know you didn’t do it,” Robin said, “We’re just trying to tie up some loose ends, that’s all. If this goes to trial, we’ll need all the details we can get.”

“I was with my girlfriends. We had a girls’ night.”

“That sounds like fun,” Robin said, “Who all was there?”

“Me, Grace, Alyssa, and Clara. We hung out at my house, just talking and stuff. We hadn’t gotten a chance to hang out much, cause Grace had summer school and Alyssa had work, so we used the time to catch up. Chicks before dicks, you know.”

“When you say that Grace was there, do you mean Grace Reynard?” Cormoran asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Just curious,” he said, “I used to know her mum.”

“And what did girls’ night entail?” Robin asked.

“Ummm we went and saw Me Before You. Then we went home and ate a buttload of ice-cream. Then we painted our nails and talked.” Then around eleven-ish, my mum called and told me about Sunny. She’s a paramedic. She was on the scene.”

“Your friends were with you the whole time?”

“Yeah. The whole time. I’m glad they were, too. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it on my own.” Her chin trembled and she dabbed at her eyes. “My friends are the most important thing in my life.”

“Did you know that Sunny was meeting Gemma that night?”

Lisa’s eyes darted back and forth.

“Yesssss,” she said, hesitantly. Robin and Cormoran shared a glance. She couldn’t have made the lie more obvious if she’d tried.

“You did.”

“Yes. They were studying together.”

“In the summer?” Cormoran asked. Lisa twisted her hands in her lap. 

“I trust my boyfriend, okay? I’m not, like, clingy, or needy, or whatever. I’m not one of those possessive girlfriends. I trust him to be in the same room as a girl without jumping her bones.” The words came out in a hyper-defensive rush. “He hangs out with girls all the time. He gets along better with girls, because he’s not into the toxic hypermasculinity that the rest of the guys here subscribe to.”

Robin marveled at how woke modern kids were. When she was sixteen she barely knew the difference between labor and conservative. Now it seemed like seven-year-old could reel off the communist manifesto. 

“Besides,” Lisa continued, “She has a boyfriend. She’s dating that kid Theodore.”

“Do you know Theodore?” Robin asked. 

“Not really. We thought he was gay at first, but I guess he’s not? I mean, maybe he’s bi or something. He seems okay. I feel for him, dating her. I do. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Deserve what exactly?”

“Dating a mad stabber!”

“Well I can hardly disagree there,” Cormoran muttered. Robin smirked, but Lisa didn’t hear him. Her eyes were fixed at somebody behind Cormoran and Robin.

“Lisa?” They turned to see a small brunette standing in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself. 

“Grace!” Lisa said, standing. She let out a strangled sob and ran to her friends arms. They held each other, weeping.

Cormoran and Robin shared a glance, both thinking of the name in the gardening society’s log.  _ Sunny Morris plucked the flowers of Lisa Wilson and Grace Reynard. _

Robin felt a pang of sadness watching the girls embracing. She knew how secrets and lies infiltrated the purity of girlhood friendships like rot. She took Cormoran’s hand. 

“Let’s leave them to it,” she murmured. 


	18. The Prison Break

They had just pulled into the hotel parking lot when Cormoran’s phone rang.

“Ilsa,” he said, “What news?”

“They’re releasing her,” Ilsa said, “I don’t know what you said to Sunny, but he just called Adam and recanted his testimony. He said that he didn’t see her stab him.”

“Oh, excellent!”

“Yes, the bad news is that Gemma is only fifteen, and they won’t release her without a parent or guardian. I saw that Robin was written in as Gemma’s emergency contact but I assume that that’s a typo.”

“Ah. Yes. That’s not a typo. It’s just… complicated.” Cormoran sighed. “Gemma lives in her car.”

“Jesus.”

“I know. She’s terrified of being sent into care. We offered her a hotel room, but she said no. She said that she preferred her car. It was familiar.”

“I can understand that. But God. This complicates things.”

“How so?”

“Adam was very clear that he was not releasing her by choice. If he sees that she’s breaking any laws, anything at all, he’ll bring her back in. Being alone puts her in a very tenuous situation.”

“Is she there with you now? Can we speak to her?”

“She’s in the bathroom right now, freshening up. I doubt she had much privacy, the fuckers. Should I have her call you back when she’s out?”

“Sure, yeah. We’ll come straight over to the station and pick her up.”

Robin nodded and started the ignition again.

“Guess we should probably talk to Joan,” Cormoran said to Ilsa, “See if she’s willing to house a wild fifteen year old.”

“She housed you when you were a wild fifteen year old,” Ilsa said.

“Mm. Hang tight while I call her. We’ll be there in half an hour.”

Cormoran hung up, then dialed his aunt. 

“Hello Cormoran,” Joan said. He could hear water running in the background and knew that his aunt was washing dishes.

“Hey Aunt Joan, You know Gemma Mae?”

“Of course, poor girl.”

“Well, it turns out that she’s homeless.”

He heard the water turn off.

“Oh, that poor thing,” Joan murmured.

“And… Well, she put down your address as her home address.”

“ _ My _ address? I barely know the child.”

“Robin was listed as an emergency contact. I suppose she just spotted the address and decided to use it. But that doesn’t mean she has to stay with you.”

“Of course it does! Oh, that poor child.”

“We can just bring her here and then get her a hotel room, or-” His phone beeped to show that another call was coming in. He glanced down. It was Ilsa. “One second,” he told his aunt, “Ilsa is calling, let me see what she has to say.” He accepted Ilsa’s call.

“Hi Ilsa, what’s-”

“She’s done a runner,” Ilsa said.

“Wat?”

“She’s missing! I went into the bathroom to find her, and she took off!”

“Shit!”

“She can’t have gotten very far. She’s on foot, and in an unfamiliar area.”

“Did you tell Adam?”

“Not yet. I’m about to.”

“This can’t look good.”

“It doesn’t. Stupid girl. What was she thinking? Where could she possibly run to?”

“She might not be running. She might be hiding.”

“In Truro? She doesn’t know anybody in Truro. There’s no place to hide here.” She sighed. “I guess I’d better tell the police, shouldn’t I.”

“Go do that. I’ll go to where we last spotted her car. She might be more willing to talk to us than the police.”

Robin gave a resigned sigh and redirected the car yet again, to head towards the docks.

Gemma’s Volkswagen bus was still there in its vacant lot, but it was empty inside. All personal effects had been removed. Gemma was gone. 

  
  


“There was no sign of her at the car,” Robin said, “All her stuff has been cleared out.”

They were sitting in the living room of Lucy’s vacation home, having just finished an enormous meal. Theodore had claimed a headache right after dinner and stalked off to bed. Cormoran had wanted to question Theodore further, but had decided against it. He doubted his nephew was in a forthcoming mood. 

They hadn’t discussed the case over dinner, not wanting to cause the children or Lucy any unnecessary distress. Now, though, Jack and Junior were out in the backyard, pelting each other with Nerf guns as Lucy watched anxiously from the sidelines and warbled for them to be careful.

“Still no word from the police either,” Ilsa said, “The whole police station is monitored with CCTV, and we watched the footage. She left the bathroom, went down the hall, slipped out an alarmed fire door, which somehow didn’t ring, and then took off running to the little forest-y park area near the road. That’s where we lost sight of her.”

“Was the alarm on the door tampered with?” Robin asked.

“Not that I could tell. Nobody at the station wanted to admit it, but I can imagine that they haven’t had their external security system updated in some time. They’re not a well-funded station. I assume that any money they have goes towards securing the cells. Some fire-exit off the waiting room probably isn’t high on their priorities. After all, you can only access it after you’ve already been released.”

“Be that as it is, she would have needed to know that the alarm was broken,” Robin said, “Either she has super-human observational skills, or somebody who knew the building told her how to get out.”

“Wherever Gemma is, she’s not alone,” Cormoran said, “She wouldn’t have been able to get away that fast on foot.” 

“Not to mention all her things were gone from her car. Someone needed to have gone in and packed up her stuff beforehand. Somebody with her car key.”

“She was given her phone back at when she was released,” Ilsa said, “But she only had it for about ten minutes. Everybody she knows lives at least half an hour away. This would have been planned well in advance.”

“The accomplice would have needed to know that she was being released,” Robin said.

“But how?” Ilsa asked, “Even Gemma didn’t know until fifteen minutes ago.”

“They must have been on call, waiting nearby.”

“We also have to consider the possibility that it’s not an accomplice,” Cormoran said, “She might have been taken against her will.”

“That’s a terrible thought, but I suppose it’s possible,” Robin said, “She obviously saw who stabbed Sunny. If they thought she was going to tell the police…”

“Getting her back is our first priority, for everyone concerned,” Ilsa said, “But according to the CCTV, she at least started the journey willingly. She definitely ran out of there of her own volition. Doesn’t mean she’s out of danger, though.”


	19. The baptism

The church was very much how Cormoran remembered it. The same ragged hymnals, dusty stained glass, and smell of wood polish and old fabric. 

The priest spoke about love and community, and the importance of children. Jack and Junior stood in front, fidgeting in their altar-server robes. Cormoran tried to stay awake, but the room was warm and the priest’s voice was slow and melodious, and he found his head nodding in sleep. Robin nudged him and he jerked awake.

“You’re dozing,” she whispered.

“Maybe I’m in prayer,” he hissed back. Robin buried her face in his shoulder to suppress her giggles. “Is that so hard to believe? I’m very in touch with the Lord, you know.”

Then the priest called Cormoran, Nick, Ilsa, and Alice up to the front of the sanctuary. Cormoran winked at Jack, who beamed back at him.

For generations, the babies in Ilsa’s family had worn the same white christening gown on their christenings, but Alice was already three years old, and much too big for it. Instead she wore a ruffled white dress and patent leather shoes. She kept on wiggling and tugging at the itchy fabric. Cormoran could relate to her discomfort. He felt much too large and much too atheist to be standing in front of a church. 

“Faith is the gift of God to his people,” the priest read. Cormoran followed along on the prompt card. “In baptism the Lord is adding to our number those whom he is calling. People of God, will you welcome Alice and uphold her in her new life in Christ?”

“We will,” the congregation intoned. 

“We will,” Cormoran said, just a second too late. Jack started to giggle, and Cormoran nudged him in the ribs. “You were supposed to warn me,” he whispered.

“Brothers and sisters, I ask you to profess together the faith of the Church. What is it you believe?”

All around Cormoran, the congregation began chanting.

_ I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth… _ He glanced over at Robin, hoping that she might join him in his confusion, but she was reciting it along with the others.

_ “On the third day he rose again…” _

“This is when you recite the creed,” Jack whispered.

“The wot?”

“The Apostle’s Creed.”

“What’s that?”

Jack’s eyes went wide.

“You don’t know it? You have to memorize it in Catechism.”

“I’m a heathen, Jack, you should know that by now.”

_ “The resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting, amen.” _

“Cormoran Strike, will you come forward?” the priest asked. Cormoran stepped forward, his palms sweating. “You’re the godfather?”

“Yes sir.”

Cormoran heard Jack giggle behind him, and wondered what he did wrong.

“Will you pray for Alice, draw her by your example into the community of faith, and walk with her in the way of Christ? If you will, say ‘I will.’”

“Erm. We will. I will.”

“Will you care for her, and help her to take her place within the life and worship of Christ’s Church? If you will, say ‘I will.’”

“Yes. I will.”

Nick lifted Alice and tried to hand her over to the pastor, but she shook her head and clung to Nick with a whine. Nick looked at the pastor with a helpless expression.

“It’s okay,” the man said. He looked into Alice’s face. “Alice,” he said, signing as he spoke, “Can I put some water on your head like we talked about?” Alice looked at Nick, then back at the pastor, then at Nick again. Finally she nodded. Nick held her closer to the basin.

“Alice Anastacia Herbert, I baptise you in the name of the Father…” He scooped up a handful of water and poured it over her head. She looked utterly shocked, then she started to giggle. “The Son…” He poured another handful of water over her head. Now Alice was laughing uproariously, and the rest of the congregation was laughing as well. “And the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Cormoran rested a hand on Jack’s shoulder, surprised at the emotion in his throat. When did Alice get so big? And more importantly, when did he become the type to notice? 


	20. Brunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for bullying, particular the bullying of people who are neuroatypical. I volunteer with teenagers on the spectrum, and they were largely the inspiration for this story. I've witnessed a lot of bullying and wanted to write it out.

After church,Cormoran and Robin sipped coffee with the adults while the kids played tag the church lawn. Cormoran had been correct: it seemed as if the entire village had turned out in their Sunday best. It appeared to be the social hotspot. 

Robin observed the clusters of teenagers, who were standing in little clumps under a copse of trees, gossiping. Hugo was leaning against a tree alone, away from the other small groups of teenagers, clearly not welcome in any their gossip circles. Robin recognized Lisa and Grace in one group, chattering away with several other girls in similar shades of carefully crafted beauty. They reminded Robin of box hedges, hacked and molded into shape. She had been just like them as a teenager, and she remembered the feeling. She had always felt like she was on stage as a teenager, like she was being watched constantly. She had been terrified that anything less than perfection would make people abandon her. And, considering the pettiness of her friends, that probably wasn’t a very absurd fear. So she had gotten up early every morning of secondary school to shave off every hair below her neck and carefully draw a face on over her own face. She remembered the constant discomfort she was in back then, with compression shorts that kept her from inhaling fully, and a bra that chafed all the skin off under her breasts. She used to be horrified that her lower lip was bigger than her upper lip, so she had bitten the inside of her upper lip until it became blistered and swollen. She felt for these girls, as they whispered and giggled in the corner. 

She was jerked out of her thoughts by the sound of shouting, and turned to see Hugo screaming, pointing at a group of girls. 

“You shut up about her!” he shrieked. His face was a shocking shade of red and tears were streaming down his face. “Shut the fuck up!”

He turned on his heel and ran into the church. There was a moment of solid silence. Then somebody giggled. Somebody whispered, “You made the retard cry.” The frozen moment melted back into activity, and people buzzed into conversation.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Cormoran said. Robin nodded. 

“I’ll talk to the girls.”

Hugo was sitting hunched over on a pew in the back of the sanctuary. Cormoran knocked twice on the edge of the doorway before entering. Hugo sniffed wetly but didn’t turn.

“Mind if I join?” Cormoran asked. 

Hugo shrugged. Cormoran sat next to him. 

“I’m Cormoran. I think you know my nephew Theodore.”

Hugo didn’t answer. 

“You okay?” Cormoran asked. 

Hugo shrugged again.

“Look, I’ve got a confession to make,” Cormoran said, “Those kids you were yelling at? They’re the worst.”

Hugo gave a surprised snort of laughter.

“They are,” Cormoran went on, “I can’t stand them. So, man to man, I’m glad you yelled at them. They probably deserved it.”

“They deserved a lot worse,” Hugo said.

“Yeah? What did they do?”

“They were talking shit about Gemma. Saying she’s a slut, and that she can’t help her sluttiness cause it’s in her DNA. Cause she’s black, or whatever.” Hugo’s voice was getting high and squeaky, and tears were falling fast. “Gemma is the only person in the whole world who’s nice to me. She’s the only one. The only one.” His breath came in tearing gasps. “There’s no-no-no one else.”

“Hugo. Do you know where she is?”

Hugo just cried. Cormoran put a hand on Hugo’s shoulder and sat and waited for it to pass.

After fifteen minutes Hugo’s breathing finally grew even and he wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I shouldn’t have-”

“Ah, no,” Cormoran said, “You have every right to be upset.”

“Dad says-“

Before Hugo could finish, the door to the narthex slammed open, and they heard Adam calling Hugo’s name. Hugo shrank back at the sound of his father’s voice.

“My dad is going to be so mad at me,” he whispered, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes.

“Don’t you worry,” Cormoran said, standing, “I’ll go talk to him.”

Adam Kennedy burst into the sanctuary, red-faced with fury. Cormoran stood and put a hand on Adam’s shoulder, pulling him back into the narthex.

“Adam. Let’s talk.”

“I hear you witnessed the affair,” Adam said through gritted teeth.

“Hugo’s fine,” Cormoran said, “He was just standing up against bullies.”

“Hugo needs to learn how to control his emotions,” Adam said.

“He was just yelling. Nobody was violent.”

“The best way to confront bullies is through sound logic and civil debate. Hugo knows that.”

Hugo was still sitting at the pew when they entered, and cringed when he saw Adam. Adam immediately softened when he saw the boy’s fear.

“Oh, Hugo,” Adam said, “What happened?”

Hugo shook his head, tears springing up in his eyes again. 

“Did you lose your temper again?”

Hugo nodded. Adam reached into his pocket and took out a bottle of pills.

“Alright. Let’s take an angry pill, okay? It will be okay. Nobody got hurt.”

Hugo sniffed and nodded and took the bottle of pills from his father’s hand.

*****

As soon as Cormoran had gone inside, Robin walked over to the group of girls. 

“Hello ladies,” she said with a winning smile. They stared at her. “I’m Robin.” They didn’t answer. Robin put her hands in her pockets and rocked back on her heels. “So…” she said, “What’s up with Hugo?” 

They looked at her like she was something on the bottom of a shoe and walked off, giggling. Robin stood there, feeling exposed and embarrassed. 

She went into the bathroom to regroup.

While in the stall, the bathroom door opened and she heard three girls come in, chattering.

“Did you hear that Hugo lost his mind at Grace and Alyssa and Lisa?” one girl said.

Robin pricked her ears up.

“No. What did he do?” another voice said. 

“I guess they were talking about Gemma, and he just started screaming at them and shit.”

“Well, he’s not, you know, all there. He has some problems.” 

Robin was trying to follow who was speaking, but their voices all ran together and she wound up confused. She thought there were three of them. 

“Hugo is so creepy. He's always staring at my tits.”

“He can't help it. He was born fucked up. It's not his fault he's a retard. Hes autistic. It's not like he has emotions like the rest of us.”

“They say he's autistic but he's not. My cousin is autistic and it's nothing like that. Hugo's not autistic, he just chooses to be weird.”

“I think he fancies me. He always asks me random questions. Like what my favorite type of lizard is. Or if I read Harry Potter.”

“He's not a bad person. He's just gross.”

“I never know what to do around him. Like do I look at him? Do I avoid eye contact? He makes me feel super uncomfortable and, like, guilty.”

“I think he's into me. He can never look me in the eye and he mutters my name under his breath like a million times whenever he sees me.”

“He can’t fancy both of you.”

“Sure he can. I fancy about four guys at any given time.”

“But wait, why did he blow up at Alyssa and Grace and Lisa and them?”

“Who knows. They were probably being bitchy. You know how they can get.”

“He doesn’t like them.”

“No kidding. Remember the Easy Lax thing?”

“You mean from, like, sixth year?”

“Yeah. It’s like, get over it, right? But I guess some things never die.”

“I guess.”

“Do you think he’ll be at TJ’s birthday party?”

“God I hope not.”

“There’s no way.”

“TJ invited the whole class. Hugo is part of the class. Why wouldn’t he be there?”

“His dad is a cop. Even if he was invited he wouldn’t be allowed out after dark.”

“I wonder if Sunny will be out of the hospital in time for that.”

“Have you gotten your dress for that yet?”

“No, do you want to go out on Saturday?”

“Girl yes. I need something new.”

“Have you seen that detective roaming about, asking questions?”

“The dude? Ay Papi.”

“That’s gross. I don’t see how you can have a crush on an old man.”

“You’re the only one who doesn’t. The man is dreamy.”

“He’s so old. It’s creepy.”

“He’s mature. A real man. None of these boys. I’m so tired of boys.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Please. All the girls like him. Even Lorena likes him. Right Lorena?”

“I mean I think he’s cute. I wouldn’t want to have  _ sex _ with him.”

“I bet his dick is-“

Robin quickly flushed the toilet, making the girls squeal and giggle, then flock out of the bathroom. 


	21. Have you seen this girl?

After church Cormoran and Robin drove to Truro, with a photograph of Gemma to show around at various shops and hotels. They didn’t have high expectations, and most places were closed on a Sunday, but the thought of sitting at the hotel while Gemma was missing felt unbearable. 

“Hugo was quite upset,” Cormoran said as they left a cafe, “Told me that Gemma was the only person who was nice to him.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yeah. Poor kid. I got the feeling that Adam doesn’t know how to deal with the situation.”

“Who does, really.”

“He came in and gave Hugo some pills.”

Robin’s eyes narrowed.

“What kind of pills?”

“He called them angry pills.”

“You think Hugo has some anger management problems?”

“If he does, and he feels especially protective about Gemma…”

“He could be a suspect.”

“Exactly.”

“That might check with what I found out. The teenage girls were talking about how uncomfortable he makes them, but I’m not sure how much of that can be trusted. If Hugo is on the spectrum, some of the things he does might be misinterpreted as creepy, when in actuality he’s completely harmless. You’ve met my uncle George. He often comes across as odd, but he’s just being himself.”

Cormoran nodded. He had met Robin’s uncle the Christmas previous, when they had visited Masham for the holiday. Linda had been nervous and protective around her brother, but Cormoran had found the man to be refreshingly honest and open, and they had gotten on incredibly well. 

“I liked your uncle.”

“Me too. But he sometimes gets in trouble because he doesn’t understand certain social cues.” She pulled a Twix bar out of her pocket and handed Cormoran half. “The girls today were talking about something that happened a few years back. They didn’t give details, but they mentioned something about Easy Lax, and that Hugo needs to ‘get over it’.”

“Bullying?”

“Probably.”

“Something to look into.”

“There’s also a big party coming up. Somebody named TJ invited the whole class. Something to ask Theodore about.”

“Indeed.”

“The girls are quite taken with you, apparently,” Robin said with a grin, “They were discussing your various… assets... quite intimately.” 

Cormoran’s face immediately twisted into disgust.

“God that’s horrible.” He spoke with more vehemence than Robin had been expecting. 

“What, teenage girls?”

“No, the fact that that they’re children talking about an old man. It’s awful.”

“I’m glad you think so.” They turned into a hotel lobby, and Robin pressed the bell. “Matthew used to say that it was just natural for men to be attracted to girls, as long as they didn’t act on it. He said that every man felt that way.”

“Jesus Christ, no. That’s terrible. That’s- God, that’s just-“ he shook his head. “It’s one thing to say objectively that somebody is beautiful or attractive. But Jesus, to...” Cormoran shivered.

Robin considered his reaction. They had never discussed the age gap in their own relationship, although they knew it was there. Her thoughts were interrupted by the concierge.

“Hello,” she said to the man at the hotel, “We’re looking for this girl. Have you seen her?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Young, isn’t she?”

“Yes, fifteen.”

“I’d remember a girl like that. Look at that hair! No, we haven’t seen her.”

“Thank you very much.”

They left the hotel and continued walking.

“Does my age ever make you uncomfortable?” she asked.

“No. Because you’re not a _child_.” His voice was taut and humorless. “If we had met when you were eleven and I was twenty one, it wouldn’t matter how much we loved each other, it would still be absolutely evil of me to put the moves on you.”

Robin twined her fingers through his.

“Have I told you lately that you’re wonderful?” she asked.

“Mm. If not being a pedophile is your one qualification, I’m afraid you set a low bar.”

After a fruitless afternoon on driving around Truro, Cormoran and Robin returned to St Mawes for dinner at Lucy’s with Ted and Joan. Cormoran wanted nothing more than a quiet dinner with Robin, but he wanted to see if Theodore might have any insights into Gemma’s whereabouts. 

He was disappointed, then, to find that Theodore wasn’t in. 

“He’s at the scouts meeting,” Greg said, “Thank goodness. I thought he’d never leave his room.”

“Still no sign of Gemma?” Lucy asked. Cormoran noticed that Jack, who had been picking halfheartedly at his flavorless casserole, sat bolt upright at the mention of her name. 

“I’m afraid not,” Cormoran said, “And Theodore hasn’t mentioned anything about it?”

“No. He’s heartbroken, though. Poor kid. He hasn’t been coming out of his room. He just sits in there and plays computer games.” Cormoran thought that this seemed like Theodore’s normal state and wondered how she could tell that her son was depressed. “Cormoran, you know a day on the boat with you would do him a world of good.” 

Cormoran barked out a laugh, then realized that she was serious.

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“He’s an excellent sailor,” Greg said.

“Oh, I’m sure. But I am not. Not with one arm and one leg, at least.”

“Would you please just give it a try?” Lucy asked, “He loves you. He told me that he wanted to go fishing with you.”

Cormoran scratched the back of his head. He hated it when Lucy put on her big-eyed begging face.

“We’ll see,” he said.

“If you ask me, Theodore dodged a bullet with that Gemma girl,” Greg said sagely, “The guilty ones always run.”

“And how would you know that?” Ted asked, abruptly. Cormoran tried to suppress a smile. Uncle Ted was usually quite friendly to Greg, but Cormoran had once overheard his uncle describing Greg as “pompous and full of shite”. 

“It’s common knowledge,” Greg said.

“In my experience, it’s the frightened ones who run,” Uncle Ted said. 

Jack stood suddenly, his chair scraping on the floor, and ran out of the room. The table fell silent. 

“Jack,” Greg called, “You weren’t excused!”

Cormoran tried not to snap at Greg, and instead heaved to his feet.

“I’ll go see what’s up,” Cormoran said, “No, Lucy, really, you finish your dinner. I’ve already finished eating.”

He made his way up to the boys’ shared room and knocked on the door.

“Jack? It’s Cormoran.”

The door opened a crack and Jack’s eyes peered out.

“Is it just you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Jack opened the door for Cormoran to come in, then shut it tight behind them. Cormoran sat beside Jack on the bed. It seemed to be the day for listening to the confessions of teenage boys. 

“I have a secret,” Jack said.

“Yeah?”

“But nobody can know. Not anybody. Not even Mum. And especially not Dad.”

“I won’t tell a soul.” 

“Even if it was a dangerous secret?”

Cormoran considered this. If Jack confessed to using drugs or suicidal thoughts, Cormoran knew that by all accounts he should tell someone. but he also knew that it was better for Jack to tell him than for Jack to keep it a secret forever.

“If it was a dangerous secret I would try to help you. But it would still be a secret. I wouldn’t tell.”

Jack considered this for a moment, then nodded. 

“You can tell Robin,” he added.

“Alright.”

“I…” Jack took a deep breath. “I know where she is.”

“Who?”

“Gemma.”

Cormoran jerked forward in surprise. 

“You do? How?”

“I was bored yesterday, so I went out into the Kennedy field to see if I could see any animals. Hugo has this big old treehouse that he built as a kid, in the woods way back on the back of the property. That’s where she’s living.”

“She’s living on Adam Kennedy’s land?” Cormoran couldn’t think of anything less plausible. 

“In the belly of the beast, she says. Officer Kennedy hasn’t walked his land in years, probably. He’s too busy policing and running the town. And the treehouse is way back in a foresty bit. Well hidden. It has a rope ladder, so you can pull it up if you want and nobody else can get up there. I think Hugo is bringing her actual meals. I don’t know how she showers or uses the bathroom.”

Cormoran looked at his nephew with a mixture of awe and amusement.

“My God, Jack, you’re incredible.”

“I did good?”

“I’d hire you right here and now if I didn’t know your mum would kill me.”

“You won’t tell, will you? Not even my mum? Or Theodore?”

“I won’t tell anybody. But maybe Robin could go and visit Gemma? In secret?”

Jack thought on this, then nodded solemnly. 

“Gemma might like that, having another girl around.”

Cormoran grinned and put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. 

“You want to go down and finish dinner?”

“No. Mum’s new diet sucks.”

Cormoran pulled a Snickers bar out of his pocket. 

“I’ll tell your mum that you’re feeling poorly. Too much sun today, mm?”

Jack grinned, and Cormoran wondered again how he had let this wild scab of a boy get such a foothold in his heart. 


	22. Gemma's Fortress

Robin chose to go over to the Kennedy house when she knew Adam would be working. Even so, she took a circuitous route, going down Percuil View rather than Porth View, then cutting through the thick woods. When she had first heard where Gemma had chosen to hide, Robin had been incredulous. Why on earth would Gemma choose to hide in the backyard of the man who was hunting her down? And how on earth was he so oblivious to it? Now that she was here, though, she could understand. The woods behind the Kennedy residence were thick and overgrown, without a path or even an open patch of space. She walked under the tree house twice before even seeing that it was there.

The tree house was a masterpiece of childhood architecture. Adam had done an incredible job at turning Hugo’s dream tree house into a reality. The whole thing seemed to be made of wood salvaged from the shipyard or found on the beach. The base was the deck of an old boat, bolted onto the trunks of two massive oaks. It had shipping pallets as walls and a peaked roof. The pallets had been fortified with a dark green tarp to keep out the rain, and was covered in branches to camouflage it in with the rest of the forest. As Jack had said, there was no ladder. 

“Gemma?” Robin called softly. There was the stiff, tense silence of somebody trying very hard to make no noise. 

“I’m not going to call the police,” Robin said, “You’re safe.” 

Still nothing. 

“Are you warm enough in here? Do you have enough to eat?”

There was still no answer, so Robin sat down on the ground and opened her backpack. She took out a container of Joan’s curry, still warm. The hot spicy smell radiated up to the tree house.

“I know you didn’t do it,” Robin said, “And I know that you’ve been treated unfairly. Officer Kennedy seems like a real prick.”

She spooned the curry into a bowl and started to eat. She had time on her side: Gemma might not trust her, but the girl was stuck up there and had no choice but to listen. 

“Do you know who I am? I mean, what I do?” She waited a moment, then went on. “I’m a private investigator. That means I’m not police. It actually means that often the police and I don’t get along.”

She could hear shifting inside the tree house and she smiled to herself.

“Jack told me you’d be here. He sent me here to help. Theodore doesn’t know. I’m the only person Jack told.”

Then there was the sound of creaking wood, and a rope ladder fell down in front of Robin. Robin looked up into Gemma’s dark, frightened eyes.

“Come up,” Gemma said, “And bring that curry.”

Robin slung her backpack over her shoulder and climbed up the ladder, into the tree house. Inside it was cramped, but remarkably cozy. The walls were draped with colored fabric, and squashy cushions carpeted the floor. There was just enough room for the two of them and Gemma’s suitcase. Robin handed Gemma the curry and a spoon, and Gemma started wolfing it down like a wild animal.

“God this is good,” Gemma said between bites, “Hugo brings me leftovers but a lot of it has meat.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard you were a vegetarian.”

“I don’t want to tell Hugo I’m veggie. He’s already done so much, letting me stay here. I use his shower when his dad isn't around, and he brings me food and water.”

“And his dad doesn’t know?”

“No. I’m careful. Nobody knows but Hugo. And the kid. And you, now.”

“How’d he get you out?”

“He hangs out with his dad at work a lot. He knows the Truro station inside and out. He was there that day, hanging about the town, and his dad had told him that I was being released. So he texted me when I was in the bathroom and told me that the emergency door was broken and wouldn’t alarm if I opened it. He said to run to the copse of trees, and there he was.”

“He has his own car?”

“Yeah. He’s actually seventeen, you know. He was held back a year.”

Robin admired several paintings pinned to the pallet walls. They were hardly professional, crude watercolors on curling notebook paper, but they were beautiful. There were two self portraits, and a clumsy rendition of Hugo. The features were uneven and drippy, but they held a level of expression that made Robin smile. 

“So, life as a fugitive. How is it?”

“Boring, mostly. I wish I had something to read.”

“What do you like?”

“I like fantasy mostly. Especially with strong female leads.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Robin leaned back on her hands. “So what is with all the secrecy? They let you go. It’s not like you broke out of jail.”

“Officer Kennedy made it abundantly clear that my release was not which he wanted. If he found out that I’m homeless, without a parent or guardian, he’d lock me up for my own protection.”

“There’s nobody you can stay with? No hotel, even?”

“This is better. Really. I can run easily here.”

Robin tried to keep her tone casual and light. 

“And who exactly are you planning on running from?”

Gemma seemed to shrink back at the question.

“I didn’t stab Sunny,” she said, “But somebody did.”

“Are you afraid that someone might be after you? The person who stabbed Sunny?”

Gemma shrugged. 

“Maybe. I’m probably just being paranoid.”

“Elaborate on that. Maybe you’re not.”

“It was just a feeling I had, after the stabbing. Like I was being watched. It was probably nothing.” She peeled a long strip of skin off her cuticle. “It’s better for everyone if I stay here.”

“Gemma… What did you see that night?”

“Nothing.” Gemma’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t see anybody.”

“You can tell me, Gemma. You’re safe here.”

Gemma just shook her head, one tear falling into her bowl. Robin decided to change the topic. 

“Do you still feel like you’re being watched?”

“No. Here it’s fine.”

“Why are you here? Why Hugo?”

“Because he offered. He’s my friend. And he thinks he owes me, but he doesn’t.”

“Why would he think he owes you?”

Gemma shrugged, sighed, then set down her bowl. She looked relieved that Robin was no longer asking about the stabbing. 

“Hugo… Well, it’s kind of a long story. Hugo is a great bass player, I’ll start there. He’s really good. So there was this time, in seventh year, when he auditioned for the school band and got a spot. Not only a spot, he got a major solo at the Falmouth Festival. Which is, like, a huge deal. And these kids, these other kids, they were total dickwads, I guess they thought that their friend was the better player and deserved to play at the festival, I don’t know. So these total shitmonkeys put laxatives in his drink that morning, and… Well you can guess. He shit his pants on stage. Like bullies didn’t have enough to tease him about already. It was shitty.” She smirked. “No pun intended.” Her face fell again. “Kids were so fucking mean. Just horrible. What did he ever do to them? Really? He wasn’t bothering anyone. Once that happened, the bullying got so bad. It was so bad his dad pulled him out of school.” She shook her head. “Anyways, soon after he got pulled out, I overheard the kids who spiked his drink talking about it in the bathroom. I recorded the conversation on my phone. Then I posted the recording on every social media platform I could find. The kids got suspended from school. It didn’t really change anything for Hugo, who stayed home-schooled until last year, but we became friends. We would meet up sometimes. Just to hang out. It wasn’t romantic or anything, but he knew I loved marine biology and he would take me to this one spot, this sea cave, where there’s seals and stuff.”

“I know the place.”

“Yeah. We’d go there sometimes and look at the tide pools and the animals. He’s a quiet guy, we didn’t talk much. But yeah. We’d do that.”

“Has Hugo ever shown any signs of anger management problems?”

Gemma snorted.

“God, no. If anything he’s too docile. He manages his anger too well. I used to tell him that he needs to stand up for himself more.”

“Who put laxatives in his drink? What were their names?”

“Lisa, Grace, Donny. That crew.”

“It can’t have made you especially popular with them.”

“Nobody is popular with them. They hate everyone and everyone hates them. Although we pretend like we don’t. Tradition, you know. You’re supposed to love the beautiful mean athletes, aren’t you. But nobody actually does.”

“Do you feel that way about Sunny?”

Gemma turned a shocking shade of pink, from the roots of her hair down to her chest.

“Sunny wasn’t here back then. He isn’t that crowd.”

“No? He’s dating Lisa.”

“He’s going to break up with her. He was about to, but then he got stabbed.” Gemma picked at a cuticle, and Robin could hear the desperation in her voice. “You can’t break up with somebody right after you get stabbed.”

“No?”

“No. It messes with your brain. Trauma and stuff.”

“I talked to Sunny. He told me that you two were doing more than hanging out on the boat that night.”

Gemma wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She looked down at the ground. Then she nodded.

“It’s okay, Gemma,” Robin said, “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know,” Gemma said, “It’s just… personal.”

“Did he do anything that you weren’t comfortable with?”

Gemma’s head snapped up.

“No! No, of course not!” 

“Good.”

“ _ I’m _ the one that instigated it. _ I’m _ the one that set the pace. Not him.”

“Oh?” 

“I mean I didn’t  _ coerce  _ him or anything. But I was into it.”

“I don’t blame you. He’s an attractive guy.”

“And so much more than that. He puts on this rough playboy exterior, but actually he’s very sweet. He doesn’t let most people see it, but… I do.”

Robin fought the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Tell me more,” Robin said, “Give me an example.”

“Well, like, there was a time when everyone was bullying Hugo, and Sunny told them to stop. And he once wrote this really beautiful poem in English class about how he can never live up to his dad’s legacy. Stuff like that.”

Robin nodded, pondering how Gemma could be so brilliant and so incredibly naive at the same time.

“Does your boyfriend know about this?” Robin asked.

“Who, Theodore? Yeah. He knows that I like Sunny, and he’s mostly okay with it.”

“Mostly?”

“Well yeah. He thinks Sunny is a wanker. But we do our own thing.”

“What does that mean? Your own thing?”

“I’m not…” She looked up at Robin nervously. “You can’t tell Theodore’s parents, okay? You can’t.”

“I promise I won’t tell his parents anything.”

“I’m not actually dating Theodore. I mean I  _ am _ , but I’m not.”

“Oh?”

“Well… don’t tell anybody but… We’re just pretending to date, because he’s as gay as an Easter bonnet and the other boys were giving him shit about it.”

Robin tried not to act surprised. It had never occurred to her that Theodore might be gay. He didn’t seem the type. But then she supposed that there wasn’t just one way to be gay, and to assume as such was somewhat homophobic and… She was getting distracted, and she shook it off. 

“That was a kind thing to do.”

“Theodore’s a good guy. We’re friends.”

“So you weren’t cheating on him that night.”

Gemma flushed again.

“No. Not really.”

“I overheard some girls discussing a party. Somebody named TJ?”

“Ugh. Barf me a river. TJ does this big bash every year and it’s utter bullshit. It’s at the hotel, in the ballroom. There’s always this big thing about who gets a room upstairs afterwards.”

Robin considered Gemma, and decided that she was relaxed enough to tackle the stabbing again.

“So you didn’t see who stabbed Sunny. But if you had to guess, who would you say did it?”

“I don’t know. My guess is some random psycho.” Gemma made a show of checking the time on her phone. “Officer Kennedy will be back soon,” she said, “I doubt he’d like to see you running about in his woods. You should go.”

“Alright.” Robin stood. “I’ll come back tomorrow with some books, so you won’t be so bored.”


	23. While Robin was out

While Robin was out with Gemma, Cormoran finally took the opportunity to shower and start working on his lists.  _ People: Gemma Mae, Hugo Kennedy, Adam Kennedy, Lisa Wilson, Grace Jameson, Sampson “Sunny” Morris, Spencer Morris, Debora Morris. _ There were motives spidering out in multiple directions, mostly revolving around jealousy. Lisa and Grace, jealous of Gemma, Hugo jealous of sunny. If Cormoran started following motive, he would be derailed in minutes.

Means was the more complicated issue. Not that it was overly difficult to grab a rigging knife and stick it into a kid’s ribs, that was easy enough. But the emotional means was another matter. Who on the list of people was capable of attempted murder? Who had the emotional durability to slide a knife through hard layers of muscle, feel the blood hot on their hands, and then go straight back to life as usual? Cormoran knew that sociopaths were not necessarily site specific, and that there was no reason why a sociopath couldn’t show up in St. Mawes. After all, this was where John Bristow had killed Charlie when they were children. What were the odds of two sociopaths in a population of 850? He tapped his forehead with his pen. This stabbing seemed more like the work of a hit-man than a teenager. Clean, neat, quick escape. It seemed almost military. 

After a moment of thought, he picked up his phone and dialed Graham Hardacre.

“Oggy!” Graham said on the second ring, “How are you?”

“What’s left of me is doing great.”

“Ah, yes, I heard they got your arm this time.”

“Piece by piece. Listen, I have a question, and I expect that even if you know the answer, you’re not allowed to answer it. I just have to ask.”

“Aye, alright. Shoot.”

“Do you know any members of the SIS?”

“Sure, a few. But you’re right, I can’t tell you anything about them.”

“I’m trying to find information on a man named Spencer Morris. He says that he used to be an agent with them, but something about it doesn’t add up. He talks too much. He brags about it. That doesn’t seem characteristic of MI6, even if you have retired.”

“No, it’s not. You’re right. That’s the last thing an agent would do. Let me see what I can find.”

“Thanks, man.”

“How’s Robin?”

“Still too good for me.”

“Is there a name change in her future?”

“Please. If anything I’d be the one changing names.”

“Cormoran Blue Ellacott is quite the mouthful.”

"You know what they say about men with big names."

Robin came back to the hotel room and they drove over to Ilsa's parent's house for dinner. 

“How’d it go?” Cormoran asked. Robin lowered her voice, even though they were alone.

“Do you think... Theodore is gay?” she asked.

“Theodore? Like, my nephew Theodore?”

“Do you know any other Theodores?”

“Gay?”

“Yeah.”

“No fuckin way.”

“I thought you’d say that. Gemma said that he was.”

“I would be very surprised. Now  _ Junior _ , Junior I could see being gay.”

“Junior’s obsession with Batman does seem slightly more than platonic," Robin agreed.

“Absolutely. But  _ Theodore _ ?”

“I don’t know. Gemma said that they weren’t actually dating. She said that they faked the relationship because he was being bullied.”

“I did wonder what she saw in him. I mean she’s…  _ her, _ and he’s… _ him _ .”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll be out boating with him tomorrow. I’ll look into this further.”

“She was also insistent that everything that happened on the boat between her and Sunny was completely consensual. I didn’t get the feeling that she was faking that, either, although you never know. She seemed pretty obsessed with Sunny, actually.”

“Did she explain why she ran after being released?”

“Not to my satisfaction, but she did give some sort of explanation. She’s worried that if Adam Kennedy found out she was homeless he would put her into care.”

“What do you think?”

“I think she’s scared. She saw her lover get stabbed, that would give anybody trust issues.”

Cormoran thought for a moment, then said,

“When I was a kid, it was always difficult to go from the London street life to the strict domesticity of my aunt and uncle’s house. Sleeping in my own bed, regular meals, the quiet. God, the quiet was suffocating. It always took about a week to adapt to home life, and give up the adult responsibility I felt for my mum and Lucy. It was jarring to go back to childhood overnight. I could imagine Gemma feeling the same way. She’s used to independence.”

He was glad that Robin didn’t respond to this. He had told her more about his childhood than he had ever told anybody, each time waiting with bated breath for her to start treating him differently. He waited for her pity, for her horror, for her admiration. Charlotte had loved stories of his childhood, she saw them as exotic and exciting. At parties Charlotte would being up his childhood traumas as if they were funny anecdotes.  _ “Oh, Bluey, tell them the one about the prostitute next door who got the botched sex-change! _ ” 

Robin was different. She would listen closely, never breaking eye contact, like the story was an essential clue for a case. She sometimes asked follow-up questions. If it was a funny story, she would laugh. If it was a sad story she would acknowledge its sadness, then take his hand and kiss his knuckles. When it was too sad to speak of, too painful for words, Robin would curl into his side, kiss his neck, and whisper that she loved him. Cormoran didn’t like telling the saddest stories, and her response didn’t make it any better, but it certainly didn’t make it worse, and that was the best he could ever hope for.

“She did seem remarkably mature,” Robin said finally, “She spoke to me like a peer.”

“What else did she say?”

“She said Hugo never had any anger issues, and actually tended to verge on passivity.”

“Could have repressed it and then blown. Doesn’t rule him out.”

“Indeed. She also told me that he was bullied pretty horrifically. So horrifically that he had to leave school. Lisa, Grace, and Donny put laxatives in his drink so that he’d soil himself at the Falmouth Festival.”

Cormoran’s jaw dropped.

“Jesus. The Falmouth Festival. That’s awful.”

“What is that, anyways?”

“Big boating festival. Everybody in the area gets together. It’s huge. To shit myself onstage at the Falmouth Festival would be my worst nightmare. Anybody’s worst nightmare, really.”

“Could the stabbing be revenge, you think? She insisted that Sunny wasn’t involved, but Hugo could see him as guilty by association.”

“Especially if Sunny is shagging the girl Hugo fancies.” He shook his head. “Shitting your pants at the Falmouth Festival. Christ. That would provoke me to violence. What year was this?”

“They said the seventh year.”

“God, that poor kid.”

“I’d like to go back to the tree-house tomorrow. Gemma was bored and hungry. I think she might have more to tell, but she’s cagey. If I bring her some books and some food she might relax.”

“Good. I’m going sailing with Theodore tomorrow.” He stated it with such unenthusiasm Robin started to laugh. 

“You sound thrilled.”

They went over to the Herberts for dinner, glad for a respite from the raucous family meals that they had been subjected to thus far. Robin loved the energy of the group dinners, but there was so much noise that often it was impossible to focus on a full conversation. Now it was calmer, although Alice could never be considered a quiet child. Robin discussed the latest season of _Call the Midwife_ with Ilsa's parents. Cormoran had Alice on his lap and was pretending to pull grapes out of her ears as she laughed uproariously. Robin met Cormoran’s eye and grinned. She wondered for a moment if she might cry. 

“He’s lovely with her, isn’t he,” Ilsa said.

“He is. Who would have thought,” Robin said. Cormoran made a face. 

“I know. I don’t know who I’m more surprised about, him or Alice.”

“Oh?”

“He doesn’t like children, Alice doesn’t like humans. I guess it’s a match made in heaven.” Robin was surprised to hear the bitterness in Ilsa's voice. She suddenly noticed the dark circles under Ilsa’s eyes, the sharpness in her smile. She grabbed Ilsa’s hand. 

“Do you want to help me clear up?” She said. 

The kitchen was quiet. Robin washed and Ilsa dried. 

“How is it, being back home?” Robin asked. 

Ilsa bit her lip. 

“It’s good. It’s fine.”

“Really.”

“Really.”

“Because- and I mean this is the best possible way— you look completely fried.”

Ilsa smiled. 

“Is it that obvious?”

“No, actually,” Robin said, “Which is why I haven’t brought it up sooner.”

Ilsa rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. 

“Everyone said that adoption was hard. Especially adopting a child with special needs. But I thought, hey, isn’t all parenting hard? And who’s to say I wouldn’t have given birth to a special needs child anyway? And I’m a lawyer, I’m used to hard shit. And fuck the haters.”

“But?”

“But.” Ilsa looked up at the ceiling. “But it’s  _ hard _ . It’s hard having people stare. It’s hard when she starts screaming in the grocery store, and people look at me like I’m a bad mother. It’s hard when she won’t eat, or sleep in her own bed. It’s hard when no nanny we have can last more than a month. And it’s hard when all the other mums are discussing their children’s progress, like ‘oh little billy already knows his ABCs’, well congratulations Kelly, your kid is a little nerd, meanwhile mine just learned the word  _ mama _ !”

Ilsa stopped for breath, her eyes red with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I do love Alice, with all my heart, I think she’s perfect, it’s just…”

“Hard,” Robin said, “I get it. It’s hard.”

“I’m meeting up with Adam Kennedy tomorrow. He also adopted a special needs child. Maybe he’ll have some advice.” Ilsa gave a dry laugh. “I used to roll my eyes at the term ‘special needs’. I thought it was demeaning to the differently abled. But now I’m seeing that Alice does need different things than other kids. And she is my special girl.”

As if on cue, Alice let out a peal of laughter that could be heard all the way across the house. Robin put her hands on Ilsa’s shoulders.

“Ilsa. You are a fantastic mum.”

Ilsa sniffed and nodded.

“You are a  _ fantastic _ mum,” Robin repeated.


	24. Fishing with Theodore

Cormoran and Theodore set off early, right as the sun was rising. They rode the Joan of Arc in silence, Theodore moving it deftly over the waves, Cormoran feeling useless and deeply awkward. Theodore was the exact replica of his father: serious, logical, organized. He had no interest in Cormoran’s work or past. He spoke Latin, but had no interest in the classics. He had started saving for retirement at the age of ten.

They sailed past a broken down pier, sagging and rotten in the water.

“They must have closed this pier down since I last sailed out here,” Cormoran said, in an attempt at small talk.

“Yeah, it was shut down two years ago. Some dumb kids still try to see how far they can walk on it before it starts to shake. Not me, though.”

The end of the pier had collapsed below the surface, only to come up again ten feet further in a cement platform. Theodore pulled the boat up at this platform, and tied it neatly on a rotting remnant of an old wooden post. It looked thoroughly unsafe to Cormoran, and he hesitated before stepping off the boat.

“It’s fine,” Theodore said, “The rest of the pier was made of wood, and eventually collapsed, but this part is perfectly sturdy. It’s made out of concrete, see?” He jumped up and down a few times. “It’s the best fishing spot around.”

Cormoran stepped off the boat and onto the pier. It was stronger than it looked, about eight feet square, covered in shells where birds had used the hard cement to crush open mussels. There was also a smattering of beer cans. Theodore looked at these disdainfully.

“Sometimes kids like to come out here and drink. It’s stupid.”

“Certainly doesn’t seem very safe,” Cormoran said, because he felt like it was the right thing to say. He remembered getting drunk as a teenager and being dared to ride a skateboard off the end of the dock. It was among his happiest teenage memories. 

They set up the fishing lines and sat on the edge, Cormoran balancing the rod between his knees to make up for his useless right hand. For a while the only sound was the gulls above them and the lap of the waved against the cement. Cormoran wasn’t sure if he was supposed to speak or not, so he stayed quiet, allowing the waves to form a white noise in his head.

Finally Theodore cleared his throat, shaking Cormoran out of his zen space.

“How’s the investigation going?” Theodore asked.

“It’s going well. I’m learning a lot about your classmates. Your information on the Gardening Society was incredibly helpful.”

“Good. I’m glad.” His eyes scanned the horizon. “Have you found Gemma yet?”

“Robin has spoken to her. She’s alright.”

“Good. She’s a good person.”

There was a gentle tug at Cormoran’s line, nearly pulling the rod into the water.

“Hey! I’ve got something!”

For a moment they were lost in the adrenaline of catching a fish: wrestling with the line, reeling it in, removing the hook, and measuring it. Theodore helped Cormoran where Cormoran’s right hand fumbled, and together they managed to get it into the mesh underwater basket to keep it fresh. It kept them busy, and Cormoran found himself grinning against all odds.

“That pollock is fifteen inches,” Teddy said, “Aunt Joan could make fish and chips tonight.” 

“God, she makes the best fish and chips.” Cormoran looked down at the fish in the basket, swimming in circles. “You weren’t wrong about this being a great fishing spot. That was fast.”

“Officer Kennedy told me about it. He’s a big fisher.”

“Mm. He’s your scout leader, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. He’s alright.”

The sun was high now, and Cormoran was glad for his thermos of iced tea. Joan had insisted that Cormoran wear one of Ted’s old floppy fishing hats, and Cormoran had rolled his eyes at it at the time, but now the sun was strong overhead and Cormoran was grateful for the shade.

“Hey Uncle Cormoran?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“Um.” Theodore looked down at his hands. “Gemma wasn’t actually my girlfriend.”

Cormoran glanced at Theodore from the corner of his eye.

“Oh?”

“No. We just said we were cause I was being bullied. Cause all these guys were calling me gay and stuff.”

“Ah.”

“I’m not. Gay, I mean. But. You know.”

“Okay.” Cormoran stared at the spot where his line went into the water. “Mm. You know, if you were, that would be okay.”

“Yeah, but I’m not.”

“Okay. I believe you.”

A seagull landed on the edge of the pier and both Cormoran and Theodore watched it intently, in hopes that it might distract from the awkwardness of the conversation. It looked at them, honked, then flew away. 

“Um, Uncle Cormoran?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t like guys, but… sometimes I watch… like… bad stuff.”

“Like pornography?”

“Yeah.”

They were both scarlet-faced now, both desperately hoping that this conversation was just a terrible dream. Alarm bells were sounding in Cormoran’s head, and he could feel the sweat running down the back of his neck. 

“Lots of people do that,” Cormoran stammered, “it’s perfectly natural to- you know- explore, or- well- yes. It’s only a problem if you do it too much, or if it’s unethically filmed. You know often times the porn industry is very demeaning towards women, so--”

“Well that’s the thing,” Theodore said, “I don’t watch that kind. The kind with- well with women. I only watch the kind with- men.”

Cormoran wondered if he could jump off the pier and make it to shore. He thought he might rather drown that continue the conversation.

“Welllllll…” he said, stalling for time, “You don’t have to define your sexuality right now, right? You say you’re not gay. That’s fine. You don’t have to be straight either.”

Theodore’s lower lip trembled, and suddenly Cormoran’s discomfort was completely eclipsed by his deep biological urge to comfort his nephew. 

“Dad would never forgive me if I was gay,” Theodore warbled. 

Cormoran couldn’t help but laugh at this. 

“Theodore, your dad and I don’t always see eye to eye. But he loves you more than anything I’ve ever seen. If you were gay, Greg would lead the damn pride parade. He will love you no matter what.”

“He doesn’t like me dating Gemma,” Theodore argued.

“That’s different. He’s worried about who you  _ date _ . Not who you  _ are _ .”

Theodore wiped his eyes and sniffed loudly.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

They stared out at the horizon again, until Theodore’s line jerked into motion.

When they arrived back at Joan’s house that evening, they had seven fish between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is loosely based off a very uncomfortable conversation I recently had.


	25. Returned to Gemma

Robin returned to Gemma’s treehouse, armed with tofu stir fry and five books. She and Jack had gone to the library, where he had picked out his favorite fantasy books with strong female leads. 

“I haven’t read this one!” Gemma said, picking up  _ Mortal Engines, _ “I've been wanting to.”

“Theodore’s brother Jack recommended it. He’s into fantasy.”

“I’ve heard that it fits into a Marxist agenda,” Gemma said. 

“Ah, yes, I heard you were a communist.”

“What tipped it off? The hammer and sickle on my jacket?” Gemma said, grinning. 

“You must be used to funny looks here in St. Mawes. They don’t seem like far left types.”

Gemma laughed. 

“I am the only communist,” she said, “But there are some open minds.”

“I’m curious,” Robin said, “Why communism?”

“I’ll show you.” 

Gemma twisted around and rummaged through the suitcase behind her until she found a photograph, which she handed to Robin. It showed a young man with a thick moustache and an afro that rivaled even Gemma’s. He was holding a baby in his lap. “That’s my dad. And me.”

“You were a very cute kid,” Robin said.

“My dad was a poet,” Gemma continued, “He wrote the most beautiful poems. But you can guess how much money that brought in. The capitalist system doesn’t give a shit about beauty. But poetry was his only talent. My mum had left us after I was born, so we were broke.”

“Could he teach?”

“Every poet teaches. When every poet has to teach to survive, who’s left to take their classes? Besides, my dad was an immigrant. English wasn’t his native language. So no.” She picked at her stir-fry. “He became a taxi driver. Which would have been fine but my father was a terrible driver. Just awful. He was terrified of driving. Every night he would come home shaking with fear. And then… when I was ten…” She shrugged. “He got in an accident. Went into the river.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry.”

“He was just trying to provide for me. Get me into a better school. A better neighborhood. Capitalism literally killed him.” She shrugged. “So that’s why I’m a communist.”

“So what did you do after he died? How did you come from London to here?”

“Looking for my mum. She was a diddicoy, and my dad once told me that she used to live here. I withdrew the last of his money and bought a train ticket before social services got a chance to investigate too closely. Of course my mum wasn’t here, not that I’d ever really expected her to be, so I slept in the boat yard. There was an old dude named Kevin who worked at the dry-dock, and he would pay me to help out around the place, and covered for me as long as I went to school. He got cancer about two years ago, and died a year later. Gave me his old VW bus and some money before he kicked it. He didn’t trust banks, and kept his money in cash, which he handed over to me without any fuss. I’ve been living in that bus ever since.” She shrugged. “Nobody really cared, which was good for me. Until now.”

“You don’t have any other family?”

“My mum is still alive, somewhere. I think that’s why social services hasn’t examined me too closely. I don’t pop up on their systems as an orphan. I think they assume I’m with her. Or she’s with me.”

“So what are you going to do now? Leave again?”

“Not yet.” Gemma’s face softened and she smiled. “Not until Sunny gets better. I can’t leave him.”

Robin felt a sinking in her stomach. 

“Have you spoken to Sunny since the stabbing?” she asked.

“I’ve texted him.”

That got Robin’s attention.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Almost every day.”

“Could I see the texts?”

“No!” Gemma looked horrified, then relaxed. “Sorry. It’s just… it’s got some personal stuff. Like. Photos and stuff.”

“Any photos of him?”

“Not recently. But I don’t expect anything from the hospital. Just, like, texts and stuff.”

“Could I have his phone number?”

“Sure.” Gemma wrote it down on a slip of paper and handed it to Robin. “It’s the same one that he’s always had, so it’s not like somebody else is stealing his identity or something. I’m not that stupid.”

“So he knows it wasn’t you that stabbed him.”

“Of course! He would never think that!”

Robin considered telling Gemma the truth. Sunny was the reason that she was in hiding. Sunny was the one who had implicated her in the first place. But Gemma was staring at her with all of the hope and joy of young love, and Robin couldn’t bring herself to hurt her. Not yet.

**** ***

Cormoran and Robin had a rare dinner just the two of them, and returned to the hotel room feeling full and relaxed. Robin went through her nightly routine as Cormoran took off his splint and started doing physiotherapy exercises for his wrist.

“So what’s the verdict on Theodore?” Robin asked, daubing on a peel-off face mask, “Gay or nay?”

“Hard to say.” 

“You poet.”

Cormoran smiled.

“It was possibly the most uncomfortable discussion I’ve ever had,” he said, “He… admitted to me that he watches gay porn.”

“Oh God.” Robin tried not to laugh. “Oh God, Cormoran, I’m so sorry.”

“It would have been fine if we could have laughed about it, told some dirty jokes, whatever. But he did it in such a Theodore way. It was like talking to Greg.”

“On the upside, he must really trust you, to tell you that.”

“I know. I was surprised. We’ve never gotten on well before. He’s too much like his father.”

“He really is.” Robin fanned her face to make the mask dry faster. “It’s a bit scary.”

“He was unwilling to commit to a gay identity. But he did admit that he and Gemma were not actually dating.” He grimaced in pain as he massaged the scar on his wrist. “What about you? What did you discover?”

Robin told him the basic story of Gemma’s arrival to St. Mawes. Cormoran stared at her, physiotherapy forgotten.

“Jesus,” he said, finally, “Poor kid.”

“I know.”

“It takes powerful strength of will to survive like that.”

“She’s incredible, that’s for sure. And very smart. Absolutely brilliant.”

Cormoran sensed some hesitation in Robin’s inflection.

“But?”

“But she’s _so stupid_ when it comes to boys. She’s hopelessly in love with Sunny. Just disgustingly obsessed. She doesn’t want to leave town without him.”

“Does she know he’s the one who turned her in?”

“No. She says that they’ve been texting, which was strange.”

“Sunny said he hadn’t heard from her. One of them must be lying.”

“I know. I don’t understand it. She didn’t let me see any of the messages. My guess is that they’re pretty racy.” Robin started slowly peeling the mask off her face. Cormoran was familiar with this bi-weekly facial routine, but he never stopped being fascinated by it. He had tried it once, and had ended up peeling off half his eyebrows and a good amount of stubble along with the mask.

“What do you think our next step should be?” Robin asked, walking to the trash can to toss the mask. 

“I’d like to talk to Spencer Morris,” Cormoran said.

“Sunny’s dad? Why?”

“Call it my military intuition.”

“Is military intuition your new nickname for Hardacre?”

“Smartass.”

Robin wiggled in demonstration.

“You think I have a smart ass?”

Cormoran growled and pulled her down onto the bed, and neither of them spoke again for some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for this came partly from a bad Lyft experience. My lyft driver nearly went off a freeway overpass, then started crying and saying that he was terrified of driving but needed to pay his medical bills. I've never been so socialist as I was that moment.


	26. Dinner with Adam

Ilsa met Adam at the Castle Hotel. They were given a table near the concierge desk, where they ordered wine and pasta and chatted about their high-school days. Some teenager had booked the banquet room for a birthday party, and the thumping baseline could be heard through the wall.

“One of the boys, TJ, always throws a wild party for his birthday,” Adam explained, “That’s what’s happening in the banquet hall. He invites all of the local kids. Inevitably somebody gets arrested, or has to be hospitalized. Thank God I’m not on duty tonight.”

“Ah. Is Hugo there?”

“No. Every year, he’s the only one not invited. Not that I would allow him to go, even if he had been.”

“It does seem pretty wild.”

“Very. Even though I’m off duty, I like to stay nearby, just in case anything should go wrong.”

Ilsa smiled.

“You’re good at your job,” she said, “They’re lucky to have you.”

Adam grinned, embarrassed, and changed the subject.

“Did you know that Professor Olivier is still working at the school?” he said.

“No! How old is he now?”

“Seventy-eight.”

“Jesus. How is he still able to teach?”

“He’s aged fairly well. Besides, he teaches art, no astro-physics. All you really have to do is give the assignment and let the kids do the rest.”

“It must be strange, Hugo having the same teacher that you used to have.”

“The more things change the more they stay the same.”

“Hugo is seventeen now?”

“He is. Full-blown teenager.”

“How’s that going?”

“About how you’d expect. It’s hard enough to raise a teenager, but when he’s on the spectrum there’s some very... unique challenges.” 

“I wanted to speak to you about that. I heard that Hugo was on the spectrum, and I was wondering...” Ilsa twisted her hands in her lap. “Well, I guess, I just want to know that it gets easier.”

Adam considered this.

“Easier? In some ways. Is Alice speaking yet?”

“She has a few words, and she can sign.”

“So you know, then. Communication is incredibly important. As soon as Hugo could communicate with me, things got much better between us. That made a huge difference. So I would say, yes, his relationship with me got much easier. But in other ways... well let’s just say he was the one kid his age not invited to that sweet sixteen party over there.” He jerked his head to indicate the ballroom, where Robin got a glimpse of gyrating bodies.

“That can’t be easy for him.” She sipped her wine. “I do worry about Alice’s teenage years. One day she’s going to realize that she’s not like other kids.”

“Is she officially on the spectrum?” Adam asked.

“She’s got some of the signs, but we don’t know how much of that is caused by deafness in early infancy. We want to avoid labels for as long as we can.”

“Yes, Hugo wasn’t diagnosed until he was ten,” Adam said, “I didn’t want him to live under a label. But when your kid reaches secondary school and won’t stop sniffing his own socks, the label can help.”

“Sniffing his own socks?”

“The smell of his body grounds him. Reminds him of who he is. It seems quite rational, when you see it from his perspective, but to the other children, it makes him a freak.”

“Did Hugo have a lot of tantrums as a child?”

“Oh yes. And he still occasionally has blow-ups. He had one at Alice’s christening, which if you witnessed, I’m very sorry.”

“I had no idea.”

“I’m glad. But he has some medication for his angry episodes. We call them his earthquakes. He’s been doing better lately.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Ilsa and Adam watched as two teenagers slipped out of the ballroom and shyly made their way to the concierge desk, right next to where Ilsa and Adam were sitting. It was clear that the boy was booking a room for the two of them, as the girl stared at the boy like he was prince charming himself.

“How sweet,” Ilsa said, “Young love.”

Adam scoffed. 

“I hope you’re joking,” he said, his tone light, “I think it’s tragic.”

“Oh?”

“Watch, she’ll get herself knocked up, and he’ll either abandon her or live the rest of his life wishing he had.” Adam grinned to show that he was joking, and Ilsa laughed. 

“Jesus Christ, Adam.”

“Joking! Okay, so I’m a bit bitter. I was abandoned as a child, and so was Hugo, and so was your daughter.” He turned more serious. “Don’t you think all that heartache could have been avoided if teenagers just kept it in their pants?”

“Alice’s biological mother was murdered trying to save Alice’s life,” Ilsa said, bristling slightly. 

“And her biological father?”

Ilsa hesitated. Alice’s biological father was Al Rokeby, Cormoran’s half brother. He had gotten a year of public service for solicitation of a minor, and claimed to be still “too traumatized” from the experience to meet his daughter. However, he had promised Nick and Ilsa that Alice would receive the top education the world could offer. 

“He’s… distant.”

“There you go. And look, maybe I am too harsh. I just worry about these teenagers. I see them every day. They’re so vulnerable. They’re not ready to make those commitments.”

“I remember getting a hotel room with Nick at sixteen. My mum found out. She was furious. But now I’m a mum and I understand completely. I would go mad if Alice tried that at sixteen.”

“Thank God we’ll never have to worry about that.”

“We won’t?” Ilsa asked. 

“You and I both know that our kids are never going to have those problems.”

Ilsa narrowed her eyes. 

“We do?” She asked.

“Sure. Have you seen my son? Who’s going to have sex with Hugo?”

“Hugo is a wonderful young man.”

“Oh, of course, and anybody would be lucky to have him. But nobody will. It’s just the way of life.”

“Plenty of people on the spectrum date.”

“I don’t mind. In fact I’d prefer it if he didn’t. I don’t want Hugo to have to endure that stuff. I’d rather he stay the way he is. But isn’t that what every parent wants?”

Ilsa shrugged.

“I just want Alice to be happy.”

“Yeah.” To Ilsa’s surprise, she saw that Adam’s eyes were suddenly bright with tears. “Yeah. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't know when this fic turned into me writing down every strange conversation I have, but here we are. This is sort of a combo of multiple conversations I've had with parents over the years.


	27. Morris Janitorial

Cormoran met Spencer at his home the following afternoon under the pretext of a case update. Debora led Cormoran and Spencer onto the back deck, which was decorated in navy and white wicker and reminded Cormoran of something out of a catalog, complete with mimosas set out in crystal flutes. Cormoran and Spencer sat, but Debora stayed standing, as if she was a maid sent to wait on them.

“Thanks for meeting with me, both of you. I just have a few more questions.”

“Of course,” Spencer said.

“First of all, how is Sunny?”

“He’s doing well,” Debora said, “He’s eager to be home. The doctors say that the sepsis has all cleared up, and he should be able to come home in a few days.”

“That’s excellent news.” Cormoran sipped at his mimosa, feeling far too large to be drinking out of a champagne flute. “Tell me, does Sunny have his cellphone on him?”

“Yes,” Spencer said, “Of course the police scanned it first, you know, making sure that there were no threats or anything. It was completely clean, so they gave it back.” He gave a winning smile. “Kids these days can’t live without their phones, can they.”

“Do you know if the police found any correspondence between him and Gemma Mae?”

“No, I asked Adam specifically. He said no. I even had a look at the phone myself. She wasn’t even in his contacts.”

“And there’s no chance he has another cellphone?”

“Certainly not.”

“Debora?” Cormoran asked, “Do you know if he has another phone?”

“No, we would know,” Debora said.

“Good. Now, Spencer, I have a few questions, just for you, and…” Cormoran glanced at Debora, “You may want this to be just us.”

“Anything you tell my husband, you can tell me,” Debora said, “There are no secrets between us.”

Cormoran glanced at Spencer.

“Is that true, Spencer?”

Spencer Morris looked severely uncomfortable. 

“Is it about my work in the SIS?” he asked.

“Something like that.”

“Debora, just… I’ll explain later. Just go on inside.”

“You’ve never kept a case secret from me before,” she whined, “We tell each other everything. We-"

“Later, Debora!”

She put on an angry pout and stalked back inside. Cormoran sipped again at his mimosa. He wasn't much of a champagne man, but even he could tell that it was expensive.

“So. You’ve never kept a case secret from Debora before.”

“She’s my wife.”

“Last I checked being in MI6 meant complete confidentiality. At all times. Even to your family and friends.”

“Of course I kept some things quiet. But she doesn’t have to know that.”

“Just like she doesn’t have to know that you’re not actually an agent?” 

Spencer’s mouth dropped open.

“What?”

“You, Mister Morris, were a janitor.”

“I worked for the SIS!”

“Ah, yes. You did. As a janitor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“And not even one of the janitors who disposed of shredded documents. Your security clearance was zero. You weren’t allowed above the first floors of the building.”

“You have no idea what MI6 does. You have no idea the secrets they keep. I was… I was undercover as a janitor so that I wouldn’t pose as a threat!”

“You never left the country once during your time there.”

“That’s what they wanted you to think. Of course they wouldn’t broadcast my secret missions! That’s why they’re called secret!”

“You forget that I was SIB. My security clearance is higher in retirement than yours has ever been in your life.”

“I don’t know who you’ve been speaking to, but-“

“Where were you actually going when you told Debora that you were overseas? Mistress? Secret family?”

“Never! I would never be unfaithful!”

“So what?”

“I was overseas!”

“Listen, the more you keep lying to me, the more of a suspect you become.”

This made Spencer grow still. 

“A suspect? What?”

“Did your son find out? Did he threaten to tell?”

“Why would I-” Spencer Morris’s face moved from fear to rage. “How dare you. How dare you accuse me of hurting my own son. How dare you come into my house, and-”

“Then tell me the truth!”

Spencer deflated. He put his face in his hands.

“Please don’t tell Debora,” he murmured. Cormoran sat back.

“I promise. Nobody needs to know but us.”

“I was... I was a janitor. At least when I started the lie. My father had a janitorial business. I worked for him, and after he died I took on the company.”

“Why did you lie?”

“I met Debora at a bar, when I was still cleaning toilets. I wanted to impress her. I told her I worked at the SIS building and she just assumed… The lies started small, but I wanted to keep her, and they just kept getting bigger. Nobody had ever admired me before. Nobody had ever been impressed by me before. Suddenly she was introducing me to people as her ‘secret agent man,’ and I found myself getting invited to parties, making friends. I started telling people about my adventures as a spy. I started working out, getting in shape to match the stories. It changed the way I saw myself. It makes everybody happy, doesn’t it? It doesn't hurt anybody.”

“How did you afford the charade? The suits, the boat, the house.”

“A number of things. Day trading, largely. And, like I said, my father left me the business when he died, about two years after I met Debora. I may not be a secret agent, but I know how to make money. Not as much as Debora thinks I have, but I’ve made good investments. Enough to fake it.” He rubbed his chin. “If you act rich, people think you are rich. Even your own wife.”

“So all the time spent away…”

“Managing the company. Sleeping in the office.”

“Where were you the night Sunny was stabbed?”

“Debora and I were hosting poker night that night. We were just saying goodbye to our guests when it happened. I have several alibis.”

“Who else knows about your real job?”

“Nobody. Nobody knows. How could they? Nobody here has the security clearance to investigate. My lies have nothing to do with this crime.” He ran his hands over his face. “Please… Please don’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t. But I can tell you, Spencer, that the truth will come out eventually. And it’s better for your family to hear it from you.”


	28. The Summer We Were Sad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one today, building up to the big climax! Based on a recent conversation I had with some childhood friends.

Ilsa’s mother had offered to watch Alice for an afternoon, so for lunch Cormoran and Robin joined Dave, Lucy, and the Herberts at a beachside restaurant where they ate thick chowder from bread bowls and watched the mist turn to rain outside. 

“A perfect Cornwall summer,” Nick said. 

“They’re predicting a storm tonight,” Dave said, “All the fishing boats are coming back in early.”

“Do you remember the summer it rained every day?” Dave asked.

“Ah, yes, the summer we were all sad!” Ilsa said, looking absolutely thrilled.

“Fuck, yes,” Cormoran said, “Ilsa was anorexic, I was angry all the time...”

“I had Whittaker grabbing my ass whenever Cormoran’s back was turned,” Lucy added, matter-of-factly. Robin glanced from person to person, eyes wide.

“I didn’t know any of this,” Robin said. 

“Just girly things,” Ilsa said, "Have you ever met a woman who escaped her teenage years trauma-free?"

“True.”

“David had PTSD from a fucking shark,” Cormoran said.

“Remember the night we all sat in the hot tub and cried?” Ilsa asked.

“The hot tub of tears,” Lucy said, laughing, “How could I forget?”

Cormoran turned to Nick and Robin, both of whom looked baffled.

“David was too scared to get back in the water,” he explained. 

“Because I’d been eaten by a fucking  _ shark _ ,” David cut in. 

“He was even scared of the shower,” Ilsa said, “Brotha stank.”

“I was not afraid of the shower! I was afraid of the bath. It’s different. I didn’t like being submerged.”

“Right, so we were trying to get him reacclimated to the water," Cormoran went on, "And we thought a swimming pool would be the best option.  So we went to the pool, and Dave immediately had a total meltdown. He was practically shitting himself.”

“Can I reiterate the bit with the  _ motherfucking shark _ ?”

“To be fair,” Lucy added, “Ilsa and I were also in near conniptions just from being seen in our bathing suits.”

“It was not a body positive time,” Ilsa concurred.

“We gave up on the pool and did the hot tub instead,” Lucy said, “And at some point everyone started crying.”

“I got teary,” Cormoran said, “Teary is slightly different.”

“Fuck off with your toxic masculinity,” Ilsa said, grinning, “Accepting emotions is very sexy.”

“Amen to that,” Robin said, lifting her glass.

Cormoran looked around the table. Lucy, Ilsa, Nick, Dave, and Robin. He had seen each at their worst. He knew that there had been times of hopelessness for everyone at the table, times when each person had looked like a failed experiment. And now, here they were. He cleared his throat.

“I’d like to propose…” He cleared his throat again. “I’d like to propose a toast.” He lifted his glass. “To hope.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gettin somewhere, baby!

Theodore was in bed, but he couldn’t sleep. It was only ten, after all. All of his friends got to stay up until eleven, at least, but when they were at the summer house Theodore had to share a room with his brothers, so Junior’s bedtime was everybody’s bedtime. 

Junior talked in his sleep. Somehow Jack could sleep through it, but it freaked Theodore out. Maybe it wouldn’t be so weird if Junior spoke in his normal voice, but when he talked in his sleep his voice got really low, like he was being possessed by a demon. He didn’t often speak in actual words, or at least no words that Theodore could understand. He would just mumble and grunt, sounding like a stuck drain, or one of the ghosts from The Grudge.

Theodore climbed out of bed and padded into the kitchen, his phone in hand. His mum had been making more of an effort to eat healthy, which meant that Theodore was always hungry. In the past the fridge would be filled with sodas and cupcakes and cheese sticks, but now it was just vegetables and fizzy water. Resigned, Theodore pulled out a bag of baby carrots and went out onto the back deck to eat.

It had been raining all day, and the weatherman had predicted a storm in the night, but for now the clouds were moving fast and the moon was full and floodlight bright. It was cold, but Theodore preferred it that way. 

Lately he had found himself getting inexplicably angry about little things: the way his dad slurped spaghetti, or the way his mum used old fashioned words like “swell” or “golly”. Tonight he was mad at Gemma. They might not have been romantically involved, but she was still his friend. His best friend, really, when he looked at it. And yet she had left him, without any idea of where she was going. 

He liked rules. Rules made sense to him. You did what you were supposed to do, and nothing bad would happen. Gemma never followed rules. She would break rules just for the sake of breaking them. And now look what happened. 

His phone started to ring, making him jump. He had only ever gotten phone calls from his parents before. Who called anymore? It was an unknown number, and he was about to ignore it, when he remembered Gemma. It wasn’t her number, but that didn’t mean…

He picked up the phone.

***

The wind was rising and Gemma’s hair was statticky with the promise of a coming storm. She was shivering in her light windbreaker. She was wedged between two boat sheds, out of the wind, watching, waiting. At least it had stopped raining. 

That afternoon she had gone into the woods to pee, and had come back just in time to see Officer Kennedy setting a ladder up and climbing into the tree house. It had been sheer luck that she hadn't been in there when he came by. Divine intervention in the form of needing a pee. She hadn’t waited to see what he would do. She had just ran. 

Now she did a mental inventory of her belongings. She had her phone, but no charger. Her wallet with her ID, her debit card, and a hundred pounds. If she could get to Falmouth she would be okay. Most people would expect her to go north, back to London, so south was better. Maybe from Falmouth she could find a way to get to France. She liked the idea of that. She had always wanted to go to France. Her father had been Algerian, and she thought she might feel at home in France. But to get to Falmouth, she would need a boat. She picked up her phone and dialed Theodore’s number.

“Hello?”

Just the sound of Theodore’s voice made her nearly burst into tears. Sweet dumb Theodore, her savior.

“Theodore?”

“Gemma! What happened?”

“Officer Kennedy found where I was hiding. I ran away, but he took everything.”

“Does he know where you are?”

“No. I’m hiding at the docks.” She sniffed. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. I’ll come and get you, and I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

“Can you take me to Falmouth?”

“Of course. Where are you exactly?”

“I’m behind the boat sheds at the Landing.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll whistle twice so you know it’s me.”

“Thank you,” she sobbed, “Thank you, thank you.”

***

It was a half hour before she heard footsteps crunching on the gravel of the parking lot. She shrank back into the shadows, waiting for the signal. 

There it was, two whistles. She poked her head out from between the sheds. She trusted Theodore, but she was no idiot. He might have come with his parents, mummy’s boy that he was. But no, it was just him, boots and a sweater pulled on over his pajamas.

“Gemma!” Theodore’s voice was its usual whiny monotone, but to Gemma it could have been the sound of angels singing. “Gemma, are you there?”

She ran out from behind the shed.

“Theodore, thank God you’re here!” She enveloped him in a massive hug, and kissed him on the side of his forehead. He patted her on the back, stiffly.

“Of course. You are my girlfriend, after all.” He gave her a crooked smile and helped her onto the Joan of Arc. “It’ll only take us half an hour to get to Falmouth,” he said, “I can drop you off there.” He took out a thermos and handed it to her. “I thought you might be cold. I brought you some tea.”

This small act of kindness nearly brought her to tears again, as he unmoored the Joan of Arc and started to guide it out of the harbor.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said. Theodore shrugged from his position at the helm.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Once they were out of the dock, he sped up the engine, and her hair blew against her face. “Where will you go from Falmouth?”

“I was thinking France. I could take a train or a boat to Brest.”

“I’ve been there,” Theodore said, “One fall holiday, for a family vacation.”

“What was it like?” 

“It was good. It was warm when we went. They have a good aquarium.”

Gemma smiled. That’s where she would go. She could start over there, in the warm city with the good aquarium. She shut her eyes and imagined it, and eventually the purr of the engine and the rocking of the boat pulled her into sleep.

***

It seemed like just a few minutes before the boat thumped alongside a mooring, shaking Gemma into wakefulness. 

“Are we there already?” she murmured. She looked around, but they weren’t at Falmouth. “Theodore?” Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she saw that they were docked against the old cement pier. There was another boat docked along the other side as well, in shadow. “Theodore, why are we here?”

Theodore didn’t look up. Somebody was walking down from the other boat, pointing a large maglite at Gemma, blinding her and making him impossible to recognize. Gemma shrank back. 

“Theodore, what did you do? What-“

Theodore stayed silent, but Gemma could tell from the shaking of his shoulders that he was crying. 

“Help me get her down here,” the man with the flashlight said, and Gemma recognized the voice, and she leapt to her feet, _ if she could get to the water she could swim to the pier, it was just twenty feet, _but she had waited too long, and now the man’s hands were grabbing her by the arms, and she was kicking and screaming, but there was nobody to hear her this time, not this time, and he was far too large and too strong and he pulled her off the boat and onto the cement block that had once been a pier. 


	30. On the Pier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad decisions are made by all, with horrible consequences.

The ringing phone intercepted Cormoran’s dreams before it woke him, and when he answered he still wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep. 

“Mmm-lo?”

The first thing he heard was the sound of sobbing, and he felt his tiredness shatter like ice. 

“Who’s this?” he asked, “What happened?”

“Uncle- uncle-“

“Theodore? What happened? Where are you?”

“I did- I did a really bad thing.”

“Where are you? Are you safe?”

“I’m in Falmouth.”

“Falmouth? What the fuck, Theodore, does your mum-“

“It’s Gemma. I did a bad thing.”

“What did you do?”

“A good Boy Scout always goes to the police!” Theodore sounded hysterical. “Officer Kennedy hired me, he said that I could be a special deputy, and that I might be a- be a cop like- like him, and he’d pay me to bring her to him, because- because she broke the law, and he’d pay me du-du- double if I took her to the old pier, and-“

“Fuck.” Pieces were snapping together in Cormoran’s brain as he reached for his leg. “Shit. Was it just Adam? Nobody else there?”

“Just him. He said not to tell, but I had to, you can’t tell anybody, please don’t tell-“

Cormoran had hung up. Beside him, Robin was already tugging on her shoes. There was no time to change out of pajamas. Cormoran strapped his prosthetic on beneath his sweatpants and pulled on his coat, Robin grabbed the first sweater she could find to cover up her bralette. The long range night vision camera was by the front door and Cormoran slung it over his neck and hoped that the battery was charged.

*******

“Go to the docks,” Cormoran said, once they were in the Land Rover. “He took her to the cement island at the end of the collapsed pier. It’s closed off, but we can sail on the Joan of-  _ fuck _ , no we can’t, Theodore has it in fucking Falmouth.”

“How collapsed is the pier?”

“There’s about twenty feet that’s completely submerged. The rest is above the water but unstable.”

“Can we swim it?”

“Not the full length.”

“We have to risk running on the pier, don’t we? If we wait for a boat we’ll never get there in time.”

“If the pier collapses under us we’ll never get there at all.”

“But.”

“But. Adam Kennedy asked to see Gemma alone, at the one place where nobody is watching,” Cormoran said, “Whatever is happening, we know it’s not good.”

Robin pulled the car over in a shower of gravel, and they half-ran to the edge of the busted down pier. Even in the dark Robin could see where boards had warped or gone missing. 

“We’re just going to go figure it out,” she said, “From there, we can triage and determine next steps.”

“Good.” 

“Good. So we’re agreed.”

“Yes.” 

The wind was cold, the air damp and quiet. They stood at the gate that blocked off the pier, the “NO ENTRY” sign shimmering in the car’s headlights.

Then, in the distance, like deja vu, they could hear Gemma screaming. 

Without thinking twice about it, barely realizing that they were doing it at all, Cormoran and Robin were vaulting over the barrier and running down the pier as fast as they could. It seemed like an eerie parallel to the night of Sunny’s stabbing: the two of them pounding through the dark, the sound of the waves and the creaking of wood and the shrieking of a frightened little girl. Neither of them considered their footing as the pier shook beneath their feet. All they knew was that something terrible was happening up ahead, something that they were probably too late to stop.

The boards were slippery, Cormoran felt his prosthesis sliding dangerously beneath him, but he kept going, the camera thumping against his chest. Robin was ahead of him, her bare legs pale in the dark. 

Then a board gave out, his leg slipped, and he gave a yelp of pain. Robin turned. 

“Go. Go!”

“Cormoran-“

“Just go! I’m fine!”

His prosthetic foot was wedged solidly in a rotting hole, and as he tugged at it the entire pier started trembling. Robin started to edge closer to him.

“Don’t come any closer,” he said, “The boards can’t support us both.”

Robin seemed to tremble with indecision: she had to keep going, but she couldn’t leave Cormoran.

“Listen, Robin. I’m slower than you. I have the camera. You go on ahead, and I’ll be right behind you.”

Robin nodded and turned, continuing forward. The magnitude of the statement was not lost on her. Cormoran was letting her go first. He was trusting her to handle what was ahead. 

Cormoran watched Robin running forward as he continued to work on his foot, hindered by his two broken fingers. He watched her running, then saw her suddenly stop at the end of the pier, having nearly run off the edge without noticing. 

He managed to loosen the prosthetic from the rotten wood, and started limping forward as fast as he could. 

“Cormoran…” Robin’s voice was low, and it had an edge that he rarely heard. “Cormoran, call 999.”

“What-“

“FOR GOD’S SAKE CORMORAN, JUST DO IT!”

Now Cormoran was beside her and he could see it, twenty feet away but still visible in the moonlight.

Adam Kennedy was standing on the cement block, his hands wrapped around Gemma’s neck. The girl was no longer screaming, and the silence was worse than the noise. 

“Son of a bitch.”

“Take photos, love,” Robin said, toeing off her shoes, “If this goes bad I want evidence.”

“What-

“STAY HERE! CALL 999!”

Then Robin dove into the water, not even bothering to remove her sweater. 

Mercifully, by a miracle from a god Cormoran didn’t believe in, the phone had enough service for an emergency call. 

_ “Nine nine nine what is your emergency?” _

“THERE’S A GIRL BEING MURDERED,” Cormoran roared into the phone, “THERE’S A GIRL BEING MURDERED AT THE PIER!”

The cold struck Robin down to her bones, making her ears ring and her head pound. The salt water stung her eyes, but she floundered forward in the dark. She was swimming blind, following her intuition towards where she believed Gemma to be. 

She felt something large in the water beside her, and she paused, shocked. She looked up to see a large kayak streaking past, and, to her complete astonishment, she recognized Hugo’s distinct form rowing it forward. Robin tried to call out to him, but her mouth filled with water and left her sputtering. She didn’t know if he had seen her, but he didn’t slow down. She pulled on, lungs aching.

Adam had dropped the girl’s unconscious body and Cormoran stood helplessly on the pier, looking through the long range lens for some sign that Gemma was still alive, searching some fight still left in the girl. But there was nothing but the waves and the distant keen of Adam’s weeping.

Hugo got to the pier before Robin, and leapt out of the kayak with practiced ease. Gemma’s body was limp and still. Adam was sitting a ways away from her now, his head in his hands, looking for all the world like a lost child. 

Cormoran watched through the lens as Hugo reached his father and kicked him, hard, in the side. Adam fell back, lifting his hands to protect his face. Hugo kicked him again in the stomach, then in the throat. Now it was Adam who was screaming, but Gemma stayed silent.

Robin finally reached the pier and scrambled up the side, the barnacles scraping her stomach and ripping her clothes. Cormoran watched as she ran to Hugo and wrapped her arms around him. He could tell that she was trying to talk to him, plead with him, but he couldn’t make out to works over the waves. Cormoran watched, powerless, as Hugo threw her to the deck, and even from the distance Cormoran could hear the smack of her head on the cement. 

Cormoran was frozen behind the camera, impotent, and more afraid than he had ever been in his life. Tears coursed down his face.

“ROBIN!” he shouted, “ROBIN!”

Robin slowly got onto her hands and knees. There were white spots in front of her eyes and she thought she might be sick.

“Hugo!” she said, her voice hoarse, “Hugo, please, the police are on their way!”

Hugo stomped hard on Adam’s face, and the man’s screaming stopped. Then the boy lifted his father and hurled his broken body into the ocean. 

Robin tried crawling towards Gemma, but the world rocked sideways and she sagged back down to the ground. In that moment of pause, Hugo scooped up Gemma’s body like she was a doll, and leapt back into his kayak. Robin laid her cheek on the slimy cement of the pier, too dizzy to move.

Somewhere, Robin could hear the chugging of a high speed engine.

“THIS IS THE COASTGUARD,” a voice blared from a megaphone, “WE’RE COMING DOWN!”


	31. Chapter 31

The lights were too bright, the voices too loud, and Robin was disoriented and dizzy as they led her into the coastguards boat and laid her down on a bed. The coastguard probed at her skull, making her wince, and put a thick cotton bandage over the spot where she was bleeding. 

“Where’s Hugo?” she asked, her voice slurring slightly, “Where’s Gemma?”

“The man in the water is alive,” the coastguard agent said, “He’s being airlifted to the hospital.”

“And the teenagers? Where are they?”

“We’re still looking. Look into the light for me? Now follow my finger.”

“Which finger?”

“Are you seeing double?”

Robin nodded, then regretted it as everything spun around her.

“Are you dizzy?”

“Very. Where’s Corm-ran?”

“Is that your husband?”

“Partner. He’s on the… the…” Robin gestured, searching for the word. “Wooden thing. Dock?”

“Yes, he’s on his way to the hospital as we speak. He’ll meet you there.”

Robin was transferred from the boat to an ambulance, then from the ambulance to the A&E. Cormoran was waiting for her there, as the stretcher was unloaded from the back of the ambulance. She grabbed Cormoran’s left hand and held onto it so tightly he thought she might crack the rest of his fingers as well. 

“Is she alright?” he asked the paramedic, “Is she okay?”

“‘M fine,” Robin said, giving him a slightly drunk smile, “Honestly, they’re just being dramatic.”

Robin was diagnosed with a small skull fracture and a severe concussion, and received a tetanus shot for the bloody scrapes where the barnacles on the side of the pier had skinned her belly. Gwenifer Arscot helped her change out of her soaking clothes and into a hospital gown, but the back of the gown was open and drafty, and she was still freezing, her teeth chattering. Cormoran took off his coat and she sank into it, pulling the collar up around her nose so that it could mask the antiseptic hospital smell.

The doctor put six staples in her scalp, and though she felt no pain, the noise and the feeling rattled her teeth and she squeezed Cormoran’s hand. They didn’t talk. Words would come later. Robin felt dizzy and wondered if she might be sick.

“All done,” the doctor said, “You did a great job, Robin.” Robin let out a sigh of relief. Maybe she wouldn’t throw up after all. “Now we would like to have you stay overnight, just to monitor your concussion. You should be fine, but we want to make sure that there’s no swelling or leakage of brain fluid.”

_ Leakage of brain fluid. _

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I’m gonna-” She gestured wildly, and Cormoran, thinking fast, handed her a trash can. He rubbed her back as she vomited.

“You did great, Robin, you did great,” he murmured, “I’m right here. You’re doing really good.” He wasn’t completely conscious of what he was saying, just murmuring the first words that came to mind. Robin wiped her mouth and Gwenifer Arscot hurried to get her a glass of water.

“Did you get the photos?” Robin asked Cormoran, “Did you get photo evidence?”

Cormoran had forgotten all about the camera around his neck.

“I… Yeah, let’s see.” He turned it on and started scrolling through the photos. Adam with his hands around Gemma’s neck, Adam dropping her to the ground, Hugo leaping up from the kayak, Hugo punching Adam in the face, Hugo kicking Adam in the stomach. Then there was Robin, crawling up onto the pier.

“God, is my ass really that big?” Robin asked. Cormoran set down the camera and looked at her in disbelief. She shot him a weary grin. “I’m  _ joking _ , Cormoran. Come on.”

Cormoran shook his head, forcing down a smile, and continued scrolling through the photos. Robin, running at Hugo. Trying to pull him away. Hugo, smacking Robin down onto the hard cement of the pier. Cormoran set down the camera quickly. He kissed Robin’s hair to hide the tears that were filling his eyes. Robin squeezed his hand.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Cormoran murmured into her hair, his voice choked, “I thought you were gone.” He breathed deep, trying to prove to himself that she was real, she was there. “Oh, Robin, love, Robin, I thought you were gone, and there was nothing...”

“I’m okay, Cormoran,” Robin said, “I’m right here.”

“I was so… so scared for you.”

“I know. I know. I’m okay.”

There was a tapping at the door.

“Excuse me?” 

Cormoran and Robin both looked up to see a young police officer in the doorway, looking supremely uncomfortable. 

“Hi. Sorry. I'm Officer Boseman? I’ll need to take your statements.”

Gwenifer Arscot had been putzing about the room, letting Cormoran and Robin have their privacy, but now she puffed up like an angry hen.

“Robin is in no condition to be interrogated,” she said, bristling, “You will simply have to wait until morning.”

“But-”

“Until  _ morning _ . I helped deliver you, Jimmy, when you were nothin but a wee nekkid baby, so don’t you try forgetting your place in this hospital.”

Cormoran tried to hide a smile at Officer Boseman’s stricken expression.

“Go on and smirk, Cormy,” Gwenifer said, “Like I didn’t catch you with dirty magazines at the age of twelve. Go out and give the kid your statement.”

“I should stay with Robin,” Cormoran protested.

“I’ll take good care of her. Now go.”

“Go on,” Robin said, “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

Robin held his hand for as long as she could.

“You go ahead and relax,” Gwenifer said, handing Robin a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, “Press the buzzer if you need anything.”

Robin nodded, and Gwenifer bustled out of the room. Robin shuffled into the bathroom and brushed her teeth three times, gargling and spitting and brushing again until all taste of vomit was long gone. She splashed water on her face, which helped her feel a bit more oriented, but she was still a little dizzy. She could hear snores coming from the curtained-off bed beside hers, and she avoided looking at it. 

She went back to the bed but she didn’t feel like relaxing. She didn’t want to lie back. Her body was still ringing with adrenaline, but she was also fatigued and heavy. She tucked her knees up under Cormoran’s coat and breathed in his scent, shivering. She buried her hands deep in his pockets. She felt a packet of nicotine gum, a notepad and pencil, a Snickers bar. She took comfort in the familiarity of the objects, rolling them over in her fingers. Then she felt something else, something unfamiliar.

An officer from Falmouth joined Cormoran and Officer Boseman in the hospital cafe, to observe the proceedings and make sure Boseman remained impartial. Boseman was rattled and overwhelmed. He was barely twenty-three, and had never worked a case without Adam watching his back. Cormoran handed over the camera card, which Boseman immediately placed in a laptop and imported.

“It’s hard to believe,” Boseman murmured, scrolling through the photos, “Adam is the last person…” He shook his head. “Can’t exactly deny the photographic evidence, though, can I. But Christ. Adam was like a father to me.”

“I can hardly believe it myself,” Cormoran said, “Do you know why he did it?”

“No. He’s still in critical condition. Falmouth sent some uniformed officers over, to help search the house. Hard to stay impartial when it’s one of your own, you know.”

Cormoran nodded slowly.

“I knew Adam when we were kids,” he said.

“I heard.”

“Any word about Hugo and Gemma?”

“Nah. Coastguard is still looking. Can’t get too far, can they?”

“No. I don’t suppose they can.”

“Can you tell me exactly what happened tonight?”

“My nephew called me. Said he’d done something bad.”

“And which nephew?”

“Theodore. Theodore Fantoni.”

“Go on.”

“He said that he had dropped Gemma off on the pier with Adam. Didn’t tell me anything else. Robin and I drove to the pier. Once there we realized that Theodore had taken the boat to Falmouth. Then we heard the screaming.” Cormoran shut his eyes. “We both started running down the pier. Once we got to the edge, we could see… We saw Adam with his hands around Gemma’s throat. Robin, I don’t know what came over her. She said ‘take photos, stay here,’ and then she jumped in the water.”

“You didn’t try to stop her?” the officer from Falmouth interjected.

“I… What?”

“Why didn’t you try to stop her?”

“She was in the water. What was I going to do?”

“You didn’t think about going in after her?”

“Well… No. She was right. Somebody had to photograph it, get the evidence. I would hardly encourage her to jump in, but I wasn’t about to double the damage by losing the one bit of proof that we had.”

Boseman shrugged.

“Whatever. Let’s move on,” he said. Cormoran grit his teeth and prepared for a long night.


	32. What's in your pocket?

Cormoran came out of the hospital cafe at 2 am feeling grey and threadbare. He kneaded at his forehead and wished, not for the first time, that he still smoked. He felt in his pockets for his Nicorette, before remembering that he’d given his coat to Robin. 

Robin was sitting up in the hospital bed, exactly as she had been when he left. She was still wearing his coat, the sleeves absurdly long, her knees tucked up underneath it. Her hair had dried funny from the salt water, and her nose was red. She was staring intently out the window, although it was too dark to see anything but her own reflection. 

“Robin,” he said, voice hoarse. She looked up and beamed at the sight of him; not the tired, appeasing smile of someone who’s been in the hospital all night, but a real heartfelt smile that started at her eyes and changed the whole room. Cormoran couldn’t fathom what was making her happy, but he wanted some of it. 

“Hey, you,” she said. Cormoran kissed her. 

“Hey is for horses,” he said. 

“Hey, horse.” She took his hand in hers and he sat on the bed beside her. “How’d it go in there?” 

“They’re a hell of a lot nicer than London cops, I’ll give them that,” Cormoran said.

Robin leaned back into him and he wrapped his arms around her. Wind rattled against the window, and there was spitting rain. Robin wanted to be outside. She longed for cold clean air, not the heavy dead scent of the hospital. She bit her lip, thinking. 

“Hey Cormoran?” she asked. 

“Yeah?”

“I, um. I found something. In your coat pocket.” Heart pounding, she pulled a velvet ring box out of his coat pocket and turned to face him. “Is this… Is it for me?” 

Cormoran’s face fell, and for a moment Robin was worried that there had been some terrible confusion.

“I was waiting,” he said, taking the box from her, “I wanted the right time.”

“You were just... carrying it around?”

“Yeah.” He looked down at the box and turned it over in his hands. 

“I suppose a hospital bed after the potential murder and kidnapping of a young girl would not be considered the right time,” Robin said. 

Cormoran looked down at her. Rumpled, tired, bruised and scraped. Her nose was running and she had massive bags under her eyes. Her hair was dark with blood. Her heart monitor was beeping steadily away in the corner. Cormoran took a deep breath. He opened the box.

“Robin Venetia Ellacott,” he started. Robin put her hands over her mouth. She couldn’t pull her eyes from his. “You are the love of my life. I want to be with you forever.” He cleared his throat. “Would you… Will you… would you want to... Marry me?”

Robin started giggling, sobbing, half-hiccups. The beeping of her heart monitor was racing along like a disco track. 

“Yes,” she whispered. Then, more loudly, “Yes, Cormoran Strike, I would love to marry you.”

“Oh thank god,” Cormoran breathed. 

Then her hands were on his lapels, and they were kissing, he was kissing his fiancee, the woman who would be his wife. 

“I suppose I should have gotten down on one knee,” he said. Robin giggled.

“You’d have never gotten up again.”

“So… how do you like it?” he asked. 

“Like what?”

“The ring!”

“I didn’t even look!”

She took the ring out of the box reverently. It was a rose-gold band, in the shape of a ring of leaves. A perfect round diamond rested in the center. 

“Ilsa helped me find something ethical,” he said, “So you don’t have to worry about that.”

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Robin said. She slipped it onto her finger. “Oh, it’s so sparkly!” She held it close up, then far away. Even in the dark of the hotel room, the diamond caught the dim light.

“Ilsa and I went shopping for it the day after the parish picnic. Your mum had veto power.”

“My  _ mum _ ?”

“Yeah. We sent her photos. She knows your taste and style.”

“About most things.”

“Ah, I think she’s come around to me. She wanted me to wait and propose when you next visited Masham, so that she could see.”

Robin laid back in bed, and Cormoran squeezed in beside her.

“I like this better,” she said.

“What, in a hospital with a concussion and two missing children?”

“Yeah. It’s very us.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Then, suddenly, Robin was crying again. 

“My god,” she said, her chin trembling, “Is Gemma really dead?”

Cormoran thought that this was how their relationship was. Beauty and horror, constantly battling, always intertwined. 

“I don’t know,” he said, “They haven’t found them yet, but everybody is out looking. The search parties are everywhere.” He pulled her close. “You did so good tonight, Robin. You did so good.”

“I shouldn’t be here. I should be out there helping to look for them.”

“No, what you should be doing is getting some sleep. You’re not going to do anybody any good in that state.”

“But-”

“Robin. Please. Tomorrow we’ll join the search party. But now we’ll get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep.”

Cormoran brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.

“Okay. Let’s just talk then.”

Robin nodded and relaxed back against him.

“So you were waiting for the right time to propose,” she said, “Did you have a plan?”

“I had so many plans. I thought about doing it on the boat, during the meteor shower. But then, you know.”

“There was a stabbing.”

“Yeah. Then I thought about going down to the beach here, but my family would insist on being there, and I wanted it to be more private. Then, you know, there was your mum’s idea about the trip to Masham. So that was an option. Or waiting until we got home. I thought about putting it in a case file, and having you open it.”

“Such a romantic.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed. “My first idea was actually the sea-cave. It’s such a secret place, with a lot of history for me, and it’s very romantic. But I was worried that the ring might-” 

“FUCK!” Robin sat bolt upright.

“What?”

“Fuck! Shit! The caves!”

Now Cormoran was sitting up too.

“Shit, you’re right.”

“Gemma said that she and Hugo used to go there.”

Cormoran was already pulling on his shoes. 

“The tide was going out before,” he said, “Which means it’s coming in now. Fucking hell.”

Robin made to stand, but was overcome by dizziness and fell back onto the bed.

“You stay here,” Cormoran said.

“I-”

“ _ Stay here _ .”

Robin could have argued with him, but she was too dizzy, too sore, too sick, so she just pulled him in for a kiss.

“Stay safe,” she said, “And call me when it’s over.”


	33. The Storm

Cormoran was on the phone before he even left the hospital.

“Boseman. He’s taken her to the sea caves. Along the coast.”

“What?” Boseman’s voice was staticky and cutting out. _Fucking Saint Mawes phone reception._

“THE SEA CAVES. ALONG THE COAST.”

There was a long period of white noise, then nothing. Cormoran swore, then dialed David Polworth. The phone range ten times before being answered.

“What the _ fuck _ , Diddy.”

“It’s an emergency. I need you to meet me at the Sea Caves. Do you know where that is? Down along the coast?”

“Of course.”

“Come as fast as you can. Call my aunt and uncle, too.”

“If you’re expecting to do a cave dive, you’ve chosen the worst time to do it. We’re in the middle of a storm.”

“I don’t care if it’s fucking tsunami season, get the fuck over there. And bring your gear.”

  
  


The predicted storm was already growing, a heavy wind making the wipers on the Land Rover judder and stall as Cormoran drove to the caves. He had only driven the Land Rover a few times before, as the clutch was hard on his foot, but this time he never left fifth gear. 

Dave lived closer to the caves, and Cormoran saw his car already in the parking lot. The rain stung his face as he stepped out into the storm. 

“Alright, Diddy,” Dave said, voice raised against the wind, “What’s going on here?”

“Two teenagers, stuck in the caves!” Cormoran shouted back. Dave pulled out two coils of heavy climbing rope, two snorkel masks, and two rescue tubes. Cormoran smiled. Dave had asked no questions. He had just known. Cormoran began making his way along the jagged rocks, treacherously slippery in the storm.

“How long until high tide?”

“It was at its lowest at three,” Dave said, “It’s getting on five now. We have three hours until its peak, but in this storm…” The rest of Dave’s sentence was lost in the wind as they slipped and hobbled across the rocks, sliding on anemones and seaweed, the waves roaring against the rocks and sending clouds of spray over their heads. 

_ Please be alive, _ Cormoran thought,  _ Please don’t be dead.  _ Looking at the waves, though, smashing with the force of a truck, Cormoran couldn’t imagine how anybody could survive this. Cormoran remembered Hugo weeping.  _ She’s the only one _ , he had said. How had Cormoran not foreseen this? 

The cave mouth was nearly invisible on the storm, waves dashing up against the entrance, then pouring down in a white sheet of water. At low tide the cave floor was above the waterline, but now the water swirled around Cormoran’s knees, threatening to topple him. Hugo’s kayak was at the entrance, smashing against the rock wall with every wave. Hugo hadn’t even bothered securing it. He had no intention of leaving the cave. 

“ALRIGHT,” Cormoran bellowed to Dave, “I’M GOING IN!”

“LIKE FUCK YOU ARE! YOUR LEG, YOUR CAST, YOU CAN’T-“

But Cormoran was sick of being useless. He had watched as Robin’s skull had been fractured, and he wasn’t going to watch anymore. Cormoran pretended that he couldn’t hear. He clamped the rope to the secure top of the cave entrance, then waded in, submerged to the waist.

The cold shot through him, and he could feel every muscle in his body compress in protest.  _ If I’m wrong about this,  _ he thought,  _ I’ll be the world’s biggest idiot.  _ Then he felt the power of the waves slamming against his back, pushing him down beneath the surface.  _ Maybe I’m the world’s biggest idiot either way. _ He had been an excellent swimmer when he was younger. After all, hadn’t he been the one to pull Dave back to shore after the shark attack? This was different, though. The waves were pushing him towards the rocks with all the force of a raging bull, and he fought to keep moving towards the back of the cave. 

He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Dave beside him, shooting him a thumbs up. Cormoran returned the gesture, and together they battled forwards. 

The cave formed something of a sea wall against the worst of the waves, but water was still vomiting in through holes and entrances. The light on his mask shone through the pitch dark, reflecting off water and rock in a way that left Cormoran disoriented. He couldn’t see where the craggy edges were until he was slammed against one: he was sure that if he wasn’t so cold he would be in horrible pain. 

David shouted something that Cormoran couldn’t hear.

“ _ What? _ ”

David gestured to the back of the cave, and Cormoran readjusted his lamp. 

“ _ Shit. _ ”

Hugo was in the farthest corner of the cave, sitting down so that the water was to his shoulders. His arms were around Gemma, her head buried in his neck. They both had their eyes closed, and their skin was purple and white from the cold.

“Are they alive?” Dave shouted, closer to Cormoran now so he could hear.

“Doesn’t matter! Let’s get them out!”

It was slow, half-swimming half-wading to the back where the two children were lying. Cormoran’s cast was practically dissolved, and his fingers ached as he grasped the rock wall for purchase. 

Hugo’s eyes opened as they approached. His lips were blue and trembling. Gemma remained still. 

“Come on, Hugo,” Cormoran said, shaking the boy’s shoulders, “Let’s go.” He was sure that Hugo couldn’t hear him, but Hugo got the gist. His eyes filled with tears and he shook his head. “You’re in no condition to fight me on this, kid,” Cormoran growled. He turned to Dave, who was a few steps behind him. 

“Get the girl!”

Dave nodded, and pulled the float board out in front of him.

“You need to let her go, Hugo!” Cormoran shouted. Hugo tried to fight as David tugged Gemma out from his arms, but he was weakened from the cold, and David didn’t need to try too hard before Gemma was face-up on the board. As soon as Gemma was safely out of the way, Cormoran pulled Hugo up onto his back, army style, his arms behind Hugo’s knees and shoulders. 

Together Cormoran and Dave fought their way against the incoming tide, towards the cave entrance and the grey sunrise. 


	34. Boseman

Robin hadn’t intended on sleeping; she hadn’t even felt herself drifting off before she jerked awake, sitting bolt upright. 

“Cormoran!”

She looked around wildly. It was daytime outside, though the heavy clouds made it hard to judge the time. Rain lashed against the window. Cormoran wasn’t there. 

The pain in her head had been eclipsed by her worry, but now it sliced through her like a knife and she groaned. She could feel each heartbeat pulsing against her skull, and there were fuzzy white spots in her vision. She fell back in bed, her hands over her eyes. 

“Ah, good morning!” 

Robin turned to see Gwenifer Arscot wheeling in a cart.  _ Did the woman never take time off? _

“Where’s Cormoran?”

“How are we feeling this morning?”

“Like shit. Do you know where Cormoran is?”

“Any nausea or vomiting?”

“No. But I feel like my brain is split in two.”

“Hows your vision? Are you seeing double?”

“I have some white spots. Has Cormoran come back?”

“He getting a new cast put on, and I think he said something about getting you breakfast. I might put him in the hospital himself if he doesn’t get some sleep soon. He and Davy came in around seven in the morning, those two missing kids in tow. All of them soaked to the bone and hypothermic.”

“He found the kids!”

“Oh yeah. Still alive, only just. It’s a wonder he found them at all. I’ve lived in St Mawes sixty years and I didn’t know about those caves.” Gwenifer Arscot shook her head as she cleaned Robin’s IV. “St. Mawes has been free from tragedy for years, and now in under a month we’ve had five people hospitalized with severe trauma, including you, and three of them are little more than children. Thankfully nobody’s dead yet, although the Mae girl is still touch and go, and the doctor says that there’s not much chance she’ll ever wake up.”

“Are the others conscious?” Robin asked. Having completed the cleaning, Gwenifer moved onto blood pressure. 

“Well they’re asleep now, but yes, they’re conscious.”

“Can I speak to them?”

“Mm, well, I suppose that’s a question for the police. Officer Kennedy has a guard at his door, although I can’t say if that’s for the protection of himself or others. He hasn’t been speaking to anybody, not even the doctors. They’re not sure if it’s cause of trauma or if he just doesn’t want to. I know Cormy has been asking the same question.” 

As if summoned, Cormoran strode in through the door with a large tote bag. There was a new white cast on his right hand. 

“Dost mine ears burn, Gwenifer?” he asked. 

“Cormoran!” Robin gasped, “Oh thank God.”

“Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Gwenifer said. 

Cormoran kissed Robin and brushed the hair out of her eyes. 

“Do you work here 24/7, Gwenifer?” 

“Nah, you were in luck, I worked the 12 to 8 last night. Leaving as soon as your girl’s vitals are done.” She put a thermometer in Robin’s ear. “That’s quite the rock you gave her, Cormy,” she went on, “That mean you’re off the market?”

“Yes ma’am. You’re just a little bit late.” He sat down beside Robin and opened the tote bag to reveal a change of clothes and two to-go boxes of food. “Now, a warning to you, Aunt Joan cooks when she’s worried. So we have sausages, ham and cheese croissants, scones, fruit, and potatoes.”

“Oh bless her.” Robin stuffed half a croissant into her mouth. 

“How are you feeling?”

“No more nausea, thank God, but my head is killing me.” 

“Thankfully not literally.”

“Mm. We’ll see. Gwenifer said you got the kids.”

“Yeah.” He looked down, but Robin saw a haunted expression behind his eyes. “It’s a miracle they were able to get Gemma’s heart going again. Adam had put her into a coma, and her pulse had slowed so much that Hugo hadn’t been able to feel it. He thought she’d died. And ironically, he may have saved her life. She went into a state of hypothermia that maintained a level of internal stasis. Her heart stopped once she got warmed up, but they got it started again.”

“Jesus.”

“Doctor Bentley was in A&E when she was brought in,” Gwenifer said, “I heard that when her heart started beating again he got down on his knees and pledged his life to Jesus.”

“What, like the priesthood?” Robin asked.

Gwenifer snorted.

“Bentley, in the priesthood? No. He probably meant staying faithful to his wife. Although I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Robin laid back on the bed. Now that she had eaten she was starting to feel some of the nausea that Gwenifer had asked about earlier.

“Can I-” The pain was throbbing worse now, and she closed her eyes, catching her breath. “Can I get something for the pain?”

“I’ll tell the doctor,” Gwenifer said, “Your vitals all look fine. You’re one tough cookie.”

Robin didn’t feel tough. She felt like her head was being used as a bell clapper. A tear squeezed out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh, Robin…” Cormoran kissed her hand. “Robin, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s… It’s really bad.”

“Why are you always the one who gets hurt?” Cormoran murmured under his breath. He didn’t think she’d heard him, but then she smiled.

“Says the man with two broken fingers and a metal plate in his arm,” she said. 

There was a soft knock at the door. Robin tried to open her eyes, but a white halo now took up a large portion of her vision and she closed them again. 

“Whozzat?” she asked Cormoran. 

“Boseman,” Cormoran said, brushing hair out of her eyes, “Should I tell him to leave?”

“No, I’m okay if I leave my eyes closed. The doctor will be here soon, right?”

“Yeah.” Cormoran turned to Boseman. “You can stay,” he said, “Just don’t talk too loud.”

“Thank you,” Boseman said, sitting gingerly by Robin’s bed, like the slightest disturbance might cause her to combust. “I wanted to speak to you both. Martine from Internal Investigations doesn’t think it’s wise, but… you two know more about this case than anybody, and you deserve to know the truth.” He sighed, puffing out his cheeks. “We searched Adam’s house. We discovered a cell phone, a prepaid untraceable one. Sunny Morris has admitted that it’s a phone he bought to contact Gemma. He has several, actually. For different girls.”

“Bet his dad is thrilled.”

“Yes, If his father didn’t have so many high up connections Sunny would probably be facing some sort of Obstruction charge.” 

“I think you should reconsider that,” Cormoran said, “Spencer seems like the type to make idle threats.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Boseman ran a hand through his hair. “Adam Kennedy is still unconscious. But when he wakes up, I was wondering… Martine would be in the room, of course, but, seeing as how you and Kennedy have known each other for such a long time, and…” He shrugged. “Well, we could use your assistance in the questioning.”

“Are you asking me, a civilian, to perform an interrogation?”

“Well, I know it’s unorthodox, but even Martine acknowledges that you have a shared history that-”

“Oh, no, Boseman, I’m thrilled. I’m just surprised. I’m not usually party to the interrogation.”

“He hasn’t woken up yet, but when he does…”

“I’ll be there.”


	35. The Hospital

A uniformed officer was standing outside Adam Kennedy’s hospital room, but nodded and stepped aside to let Cormoran in. Adam was pale, with two black eyes and vivid bruises on his jaw. A heart monitor plodded along beside him. Cormoran sighed and sank into the armchair beside Adam’s bed. 

He remembered walking to school with Adam as children, each comfortable in silence. They had both been quiet children, compared to the shrieking boisterousness of their classmates. Adam had always worn his shoes to pieces, and the soles would slap against the pavement as they walked to school. Ilsa and Dave would run ahead, but Cormoran would stay with Adam and Lucy, like a shepherd. Adam’s mother had been an anxious woman, clingy and apologetic, and Adam often showed up to school with frozen sausages or raw eggs in his lunch, because his mother had forgotten to cook them before sending him off in the morning. Cormoran had related to Adam in a way that he couldn’t with most of his friends at St Mawes. He understood the secrecy and the imposter syndrome, the mixture of love and embarrassment, the constant terror that somebody might find out what was happening.

They had started growing apart during their teenage years, although Cormoran had never given much thought to why. Adam had been a stringent rule follower, and hadn’t wanted to follow Cormoran to parties or pubs. He had started throwing around words like “sin” and “judgement,” and Cormoran had started walking to school with the various girls he liked instead of Adam.

Cormoran was struck with a sudden memory from when they were both thirteen. Dave had found an old stack of Playboy magazines in his uncle’s shed, and had called all of the boys behind the boatshed to look at them. They had passed the magazines around, consumed by giggles. Adam hadn’t laughed. Adam had turned the pages in wide-eyed silence, then burst into tears.

Cormoran’s memories were interrupted by a wet hacking cough, and he turned to see Adam Kennedy staring at him. Cormoran held Adam’s gaze. 

“You made it,” Cormoran said finally, “You survived. Congratulations.”

“I…” Adams voice was hoarse. “I wish I hadn’t.”

“Hadn’t?”

“Survived. I wish I was dead.”

Cormoran snorted. 

“Bullshit. If you wanted to be dead you’d be dead.”

Tears leaked out of Adam’s eyes, and he stared up at the ceiling. Eventually he fell back asleep.

By three o-clock, Robin felt good enough to walk around on her own, and found herself desperately craving coffee and movement. The hospital was pleasant, with a lovely lounge on the first floor with skylights and plants. The lounge was intended for visitors only, as patients were supposed to stay on the upper floors, but the hospital was also woefully understaffed, which meant that Robin could wander freely without having to worry about a nurse dithering her into bed rest. 

She moved slowly, her head still pounding, but being out of the antiseptic white halls made her feel revitalized and awake for the first time all day. Several tired-looking families sat around the lounge, drinking coffee or talking quietly. One man had a bouquet of balloons. There was a piano in one corner, and a young girl was playing Heart and Soul. Robin found an armchair near a ficus plant and sat down.

“Miss Ellacott?” 

She turned abruptly, then immediately regretted it as her head throbbed. Hugo Kennedy was standing beside her, two mugs of tea in his hands.

“Oh, hello Hugo. Please, call me Robin.”

“I brought you tea.”

“Thank you. Would you like to sit?”

Hugo nodded and sat down beside her. She noticed that he was wearing leather lambskin moccasins and wondered if his shoelaces had been confiscated for suicide watch. As if he could read her thoughts he pointed to a nurse sitting in an armchair several feet away, watching them.

“I’m on suicide watch,” he said, “That nurse over there is watching to make sure I don’t try again. I won’t, though.”

“I’m very glad to hear that.”

“The doctor said that Gemma is alive, but I don’t know if they’re just saying that cause they’re scared I’ll try to kill myself.”

Robin met Hugo’s eyes, but he looked away quickly.

“She’s alive, Hugo.”

He looked down, tears dropping on his hands.

“She was in a coma. When you took her into the water she went into a hypothermic state. The cold stabilized her until help could come.” 

“Like cryogenic freezing.”

“That’s right. You saved her life. By some miracle they were able to get her heart going again.” Hugo’s hands were trembling, and he gripped his cup tighter. “But Hugo... they don’t know if she’ll ever be fully awake.”

“Did they give a probability?”

“One in three that she’ll wake up. One if five that she’ll regain speech or motor function.”

“I thought she had died. I thought. I thought she had died. Had died. I felt for a pulse and there was nothing.” 

“How did you know where your father would be?”

“I knew something was up. I knew. I knew. He doesn’t like most of my peers but she’s different. He really hated her. Like she was the devil. The devil.” He sipped at his tea to calm himself. “I heard him on the phone with Theodore. He told Theodore to take Gemma to the cement pier. He took the big boat. I had to take the kayak to follow.”

“Why did you take her to the cave?”

“That’s our place.” He fidgeted with the sleeve of his sweater. “We used to go there and hang out. When everyone else was being awful, we’d go there where nobody else knew about.”

“Gemma told me that your dad used to take you there.”

“When I was little, but he hasn’t been in ages. Not since he was promoted. Gemma likes marine biology, and there’s good tide pools there. And the seals. It was her favorite place. Mine too. She once told me that she wanted her ashes scattered there after she died. So when I thought she was dead, I just… I just wanted to go back there. To where were were happy.”

The pain was so acute across his face, Robin had to look away.

“Can you tell me about the night of the meteor shower?” She asked softly.

Hugo looked horrified. 

“What, did dad do that too?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“I thought he killed Gemma because he knew she killed Sunny. Why would my dad kill Sunny?”

“We’re not sure yet. Was he with you?”

“No. He was at the station. He told me that once Sunny was stabbed he drove here. I barely saw him that whole week.” He bit his lip, thinking. “He did seem upset after that night. Stressed. But I just assumed it was because it was his first murder investigation. And to be honest, I was being distant too. I was hiding Gemma in my treehouse, after all.”

“What are you going to do now?” Robin asked. 

Hugo smiled for the first time.

“I’m going to be staying with Joan and Ted.”


	36. Confession

Adam woke up again two hours later.

“Hugo… is Hugo okay?” he croaked.

Cormoran didn’t answer. He didn’t look up.

“Please,” Adam croaked, “Please, where’s Hugo?”

“Hugo is fine.”

A strangled sob forced its way out of Adam’s throat.

“Oh Adam,” Cormoran said, softening, “How on earth did it get this far?”

Adam shook his head, tears flying.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Will you talk to me, Adam? Please? As a friend?” 

Adam didn’t answer. 

“We saw you with your hands around the Gemma’s throat,” Cormoran continued, “And we found the phone in your house. You’ve been texting Gemma, pretending to be Sunny. There’s not much you could say that would make things worse. But you might be able to make things better. Talk to me Adam. We’ve known each other for years now. We grew up together. Please. How did this happen?”

Adam heaved a resigned sigh and shrugged. 

“If you’ve found the phone, you must know.”

“I want to hear it from you. You’re police, and I’m not. I’m not here to manipulate you. I just want to hear what you have to say.”

Adam ran his hands over his face, pulling down his eyes.

“I don’t know when it began. Not really.”

“Have you always been attracted to young girls?”

“No!” Adam said it vehemently, then added, “No more than every man is.”

“Adam, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but most men aren’t attracted to children.”

“Gemma isn’t a child. She’s… She’s something else.”

“She’s fifteen, Adam.”

“She told me- She offered to do-” Adam shuddered. “Unspeakable things.”

“She’s _ fifteen _ .”

“I never touched her before last night. Never. Not even when we were alone in the interrogation room. I never laid a finger on her.”

Cormoran sighed. 

“Let’s start at the beginning. When did you first meet Gemma?”

“Five years ago. Although I’d heard about her before I met her. Hugo spoke about her often, saying that she talked back to teachers and swore often. The parents also had a lot of gossip about her. Nobody knew who her parents were, or where she lived. I hoped that she wouldn’t be a bad influence on Hugo, though I didn’t worry about it too much. Hugo is a smart kid.”

“And you met her when?”

“That October. Every year the police give a presentation to the school, talking about drunk driving.” 

Cormoran smiled.

“I remember when officer Jacobs used to do that,” he said, “Remember how he used to show us that gruesome slideshow of people injured while driving drunk?”

“We still show it,” Adam said. 

“No!”

“Yep, the very same. I met Gemma then, though ‘met’ may be a strong word for it. She was ten years old. She spent the entire time with her head down on the desk, neither listening nor watching. I called her out, and told her to look at the slideshow. She said ‘You can’t make me’. I told her that she needed to learn some manners or I would call her parents. She said ‘Heil to the pigs,’ and gave me a nazi salute. I immediately sent her to the office. I was shocked and horrified. I have never experienced disrespect like that from a ten-year-old.”

“Her father had just died in a car crash,” Cormoran said. For a split second Adam looked stricken, then his face hardened again. 

“How was I supposed to know that? She never said anything.”

“I know. Go on.”

“I was concerned for the girl. Today’s culture is so poisonous, so sex-obsessed, it makes children act like nymphomaniacs. I thought it was bad when we were young. Now it’s so much worse. Young women especially are taught that sex is used for more than just procreation. They spread their legs as easily as some shake hands. This is especially true in Gemma’s culture.”

“Which culture is that exactly?”

Adam shot Cormoran a weary look.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m just trying to clarify. You mean her Algerian culture? Or her diddicoy culture?”

“Don’t act so sanctimonious.”

Cormoran held his hands up, showing that he wasn’t going to argue. 

“I’m just here to listen, not to judge you.”

“I started getting frequent reports about her. Most of the time she stayed just this side of the law, but that didn’t stop people from complaining. She disrupted the classroom in school, and she was politically subversive. Her language was foul, bordering on pornographic. Many parents and community members asked me to do something about it, but what could I do?”

“Did you know she was homeless?”

“No. I knew that she was staying with old Kevin Ridley down at the docks. She was caught shoplifting once. Eleven years old, maybe twelve. First she tried to-“ he shut his eyes tight. “She tried to talk her way out of it. Bribery. Offering- unspeakable acts. Of a sexual nature.”

“Christ.”

“Indeed. I had a female officer check for signs of abuse, sexual or otherwise. She found no evidence.”

Cormoran’s stomach turned as he thought about what this might entail.

“Were you there at the examination?”

“Of course. In a professional capacity.”

Cormoran tried to keep the expression of revulsion off of his face. He knew that if he spoke his rage would be apparent, so he gestured for Adam to continue. Adam didn’t seem to notice that anything was amiss, and continued.

“Kevin picked her up at the station. Told me he was a friend of her mum’s.”

“And it never occurred to you to be suspicious?”

“Of Kevin? No. He was on an oxygen tank at that point. And Gemma didn’t show any signs of abuse.”

“You didn’t think her propositioning you was a sign of abuse?”

“No. Her propositioning me was a sign of her manipulation and brokenness.”

“And yet you found yourself attracted to her.”

“No! No. I didn’t… I couldn’t…” He blinked tears out of his eyes. “I hated her. I could bear it for a while. But then she started coming after my boy.” His mouth drew down into an exaggerated frown. “And that… That, I couldn’t bear.”

“How did she start coming after him?”

“When Hugo was in seventh year, some children decided to play a cruel prank. They spiked his drink with laxatives, and he… Well, he got very sick. On stage at the Falmouth Festival.”

“Gemma exposed those children, didn’t she?”

“If you mean that she stirred up drama, yes. She couldn’t leave well enough alone. I’m sure that if the children hadn’t been punished they would have soon forgotten the whole situation. As it was, they became angry. She poked the hornet’s nest, and Hugo was the one who suffered.”

“How did Hugo feel about her?”

“Hugo is all sweetness and naivete. He got the stupid notion that she had done it out of love. And she did nothing to dissuade him of the notion. Of course, I tried to tell him the truth. She didn’t love him. She was a manipulative liar, who was trying to use him for her own game.”

“And how did he respond to that?”

Adam snorted.

“How do you think? He responded by distancing himself. I wrote it off as typical teenage moodiness. He was off by himself often, and wouldn’t tell me where he had been. Looking back, of course, I should have handled the situation more gently. But I didn’t want him to get hurt again.” 

He twisted his hands in his lap. 

“I first met Hugo when he was two years old," he continued, "I was doing a routine inspection of a foster home in Truro. He was new. The caregiver didn’t know what to do, because he was so developmentally delayed. He couldn’t walk, couldn’t talk. She had never even seen him smile. But I walked in and… and he let out the most beautiful peal of laughter that I’d ever… That I’d ever heard.” He met Cormoran’s eye. “I had never believed in love at first sight, Cormoran. But with Hugo… I knew at once that he was my son.”

Cormoran could hear the honest desperation in Adams voice and knew that it was real. He could use that. 

“How are you feeling?” Cormoran asked, “Would you like some water?”

“Water, yes, please.”

“You play the role of loving father very well,” Cormoran said, standing and slowly pouring a cup of water, “You almost had me fooled.”

“I… what?”

“You put on a good show. I almost believed that you cared about him.”

“I… I do. I love my son with all my heart.”

“Uh huh. Right.” Cormoran handed Adam the water and poured himself a cup as well. “You just strangled his only friend. I haven’t read many parenting books, but I don’t think I’ll find that in there.”

“It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t.”

Cormoran sat back down, leaning forward, a sympathetic ear. 

“It’s not your fault,” Cormoran said, his voice gentle, “I understand that. You can’t help it.” He sighed. “You’re a narcissistic psychopath, Adam. It’s just who you are. You can’t feel love for anybody but yourself.”

“That’s not true.”

“You can’t help it. It’s not your fault. You’re just a naturally selfish person.” He shook his head. “Honestly, it was the social worker’s fault for not seeing it. They should never have let you adopt a child. They should have known that you would end up destroying him.”

“That’s not true!”

“You’ve never done anything for Hugo, have you. You neglected him. He had to raise himself.”

“Never! I would never!”

“Name one time you did something for your son! Name one time you sacrificed something for him-”

“ _ I stabbed a man for him!” _ Adam shrieked, “And I would do it again! I would do anything for my boy!”

Cormoran said nothing. He knew he should feel some sort of triumph at this confession, but he didn’t. All he felt was a deep loneliness, like a child abandoned. There was a silence as Adam realized what he had said.

“Tell me about Sampson Morris,” Cormoran said, quietly.

“There’s nothing- nothing to tell.”

“You never meant to hurt him, did you.”

“No. No, I didn’t.”

“You were only there to protect your boy.”

Adam nodded.

“Hugo came home that night… Just a wreck. Just in pieces. Sobbing. Gemma had told him… Well, that she was in love with Sunny. And that she was going to have sex with him. Hugo… He told me that he loved her. And that he would never be happy again. And that he had never loved anybody before.” Adam sniffed. “Nobody.”

“Not even you? Not even his father?”

“No. He said that he loved her more… More than me.”

“So you went to the docks. Why?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t have a plan, really. I just… I just wanted her gone. I thought that maybe if she left, Hugo and I could go back to normal. I thought that if I could scare her, force her to leave, then Hugo wouldn’t be so broken hearted.”

“But when you saw Sunny?”

“When I saw Sunny…” He have a humorless laugh. “I don’t actually remember what happened. You know, as a police officer, I never believed when people would say that. ‘I swear, officer, I have no idea how I wound up covered in blood!’ But I remember pulling the kayak up at the dock, and looking in the porthole… Sampson was on top of Gemma, and they were…” His face twisted in disgust. “The next thing I remember, I was in the car, with blood on my hands. I honestly thought that I had stabbed Gemma. I don’t know why I went for Sunny instead.”

Cormoran wondered how Robin would answer that. A lifetime of repressed desire, self-hatred, and loneliness, built up in one crucial moment? He sighed and ran his good hand over his face. He wasn’t the psychologist, and it wasn’t his job to analyze Adam. He was here to get the facts. That was all.

“If you don’t mind…” Adam said, his voice weak, “I think I need a... Just a little rest.”

“Right. Well.” Cormoran stood. “Bye then.”


	37. Fishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost done! I'm thinking just one chapter after this. Thanks so much for all your love and support.

Cormoran went out fishing with Uncle Ted on Monday. The weekend had been a blur of helping Hugo move in, and finding a permanent care home for Gemma. Cormoran and Robin were returning to London the next morning, and he wanted one last opportunity to spend time with his uncle. 

They rode in silence for an hour, Ted doing most of the heavy work, Cormoran helping out where he could, one-handed. Finally they reached calm water and drifted, fishing rods in hand.

“You know you don’t have to do this,” Cormoran said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What, fish?” Ted asked. 

Cormoran grinned.

“Cheeky bastard. You know what I mean.”

Ted gave one of his growly chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“You’re taking on a whole new family. And I know you say that it’s just temporary, until something else can be found, but if Adam is convicted, you might have Hugo for a long time.”

Ted nodded.

“Right you are.” He scratched at his chin. “To be honest, Cormoran, and we haven’t wanted to tell you this, but your aunt and I have been… Well, we’ve been a bit lonesome. Of course Lucy comes round in the summer, and you visit around Christmas, but it’s been some time since we’ve been really content. Especially since Joan has retired, we’re bored, and it’s all a bit quiet. We had talked about becoming an emergency placement home, before this all blew up. This is even better. We’ve always liked Hugo. And he knows us.”

“I heard you’ll be paying for private care for Gemma.”

“Well, we’re leading a fundraiser. The one we held for the Baartman women went over so well here, we’re hoping that maybe the folks will contribute to this cause, as well. And we’re hoping that maybe Adam will be made to pay, too. But if none of that happens, then yes, we’ll cover the rest. We don’t like the thought of her being carted off to some NHS bureaucracy.” He sighed, and a dark look passed over his face. “That girl was hurting, Cormoran, and we all looked the other way. All of us. Adam may have been the one to put his hands around her neck, but we all of us let it happen.”

Cormoran watched the water swell and ebb.

“Do you feel that way about my mum?” he asked. Ted smiled sadly.

“You’ve been spending too much time with that psychologist, eh,” he said. 

Cormoran grinned and shrugged. 

“Well, sure,” Ted said, “Maybe there’s a bit of penance in there. But I’m trying to think of it more as… Mm. An opportunity. For some redemption. Healing. Something like that.”

“Who’s the psychologist now?” Cormoran said. Ted laughed and knocked Cormoran with his shoulder. 

“Speaking of the psychologist. You two set a date yet?”

“Jesus, no. We’ve barely had a moment to ourselves. And Robin is still recovering, she’s easily overwhelmed by too much information. The only thing we’ve agreed upon is that we want it small.”

“London?”

“Probably. Any marriage advice?”

“Mm. Listen. Communicate. Tell her how you’re feeling.” Ted shook his head. “Not easy. Not easy at all.”

“No.”

“But worth it.” Ted clapped Cormoran on the shoulder. “You done good, Cormoran.”


	38. The Wedding Toast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A toast to you guys, for sticking through to the end! I'm not great at responding to comments and stuff, but know that you all mean so so much to me.  
It always ends with a party, doesn't it.

Ilsa stood in front of the crowd, holding her glass of champagne. The vows had been said, the rings exchanged, the dinner eaten. The cake stood on a table in the back of the dining hall at the botanical gardens. Joan had brought the cake all the way from Cornwall, in what she claimed to be the most harrowing ride of her life. It was a true miracle of confectionary, three layers of chocolate and salted caramel with gold leaf and fat red roses. 

Ilsa cleared her throat. She hadn’t planned on speaking in front of so many people. It had started out as a small courthouse wedding, with only Vanessa, Nick, and Ilsa to witness. But then of course they had to bring Lucy along too, and if Cormoran’s sister was going to be there of course Robin’s brothers should be there as well, it just made sense. So then her parents were coming, which meant Joan and Ted should be there as well. And then Robin’s uncle wanted to come, and then Ilsa’s mum, and Nick’s parents, who’d basically coparented Cormoran. Barclay and Hutchins were invited, obviously, and April and Eric and their new baby, which meant that Graham Hardacre and Dave wanted to be there. 

Cormoran and Robin actually considered eloping, running off to Paris or Spain to tie the knot with no fanfare, but really, they loved all the people who wanted to come and why not make a party of it?

However, they had somehow forgotten to relay this extended guest list to Ilsa, and she now found herself with a sudden clutch of stage fright. Being a lawyer, Ilsa was usually immune to stage fright, but she had already had several glasses of wine tonight and the room seemed to rock slightly. She cleared her throat again.

“Many years ago, after a break-up, Cormoran came to me roaring drunk,” she started, “And he said, ‘Ilsa, if you ever see me falling in love again, I want you to slap me.’”

There was a moment of uncomfortable tittering from the audience.

“Several years after that, Robin came to me, recently divorced, also shit-faced, and she said, ‘Ilsa, if I ever start falling for somebody again, tie me up until I come back to my senses.’”

Robin looked mildly panicked. She had no memory of saying that, but she didn’t doubt it. There had been many nights of post-divorce drunkenness. 

“Love is not easy,” Ilsa went on, “Love is the hardest damn thing we'll ever do. But that’s certainly not something I have to explain to these two. Their whole career is based on the hardships of love. Infidelity, divorce, lies, secrets. Those things pay Cormoran and Robin’s bills.”

She sighed.

“Love is  _ hard.” _

Ilsa looked over at Nick, who was holding a sleeping Alice in his lap. Alice’s rubber glasses had slipped down off one eye. 

“There have been times in my life, in my marriage, in my experience as a parent, where I have wanted to give up. And I’ve known both Cormoran and Robin during times of great heartbreak. Times when their trust was shattered. And yet, knowing all of this, they are choosing to do this anyways. To go forward, together. To make the sacrifices, to put in the hard work. Because it is hard work. But these two are here today, to say that it’s worth it. That is brave.”

Ilsa cleared her throat and wiped her eyes with her napkin. She glanced at Cormoran, and he winked at her. She had already gotten Cormoran’s permission to talk about his injury, though he didn’t know exactly what she would say.

“Many years ago, Cormoran was awarded the medal for conspicuous gallantry. He didn’t want it. He refused to show up to the awards ceremony. Many people thought it was because he was in a wheelchair, but he told me that it was because he had not done anything to warrant it. He had been scared, and he had pulled a trigger, and somebody had died. He told me that his actions weren’t done out of bravery, but out of cowardice. He told me that he wasn’t a brave person.”

She turned to Cormoran and saw tears in his eyes.

“Cormoran, Robin… Today you are doing something brave. Choosing to love is a world filled with hate... is the bravest thing anyone can do. You are making a promise, a vow, that you will be together through all the uncertainty, all the heartache, all the ups and downs. That is a powerful thing. And it gives me hope. It gives us all hope.”

She raised her glass.

“To love, to hope, to bravery. To Cormoran and Robin.”


End file.
